


My lonely heart calls

by notlikelybutpossible



Series: Somebody (who loves me) [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, Furry, Happy Ending, Knotting, Kylux - Freeform, Light Angst, M/M, Rimming, Strangers to Lovers, Werewolf!Kylo Ren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-15
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:34:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25280215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notlikelybutpossible/pseuds/notlikelybutpossible
Summary: Irreverent werewolf Kylo Ren meets repressed furry Armitage Hux. They're perfect for each other.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Somebody (who loves me) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2130492
Comments: 30
Kudos: 115





	1. You're really a...

**Author's Note:**

> It's July 2020, and this has been my lockdown project. Some people used their time productively, but I spent four months writing werewolf fluff (pun intended).
> 
> This is an AU, but the story is set after the 'First Order' episode of their lives, so both our boys are more mature and stable than the canon really warrants…

It's 10pm when Hux finally gets home. He shoves a meal in the microwave, changes into jeans and a t-shirt, and slumps on the sofa watching some kind of documentary. His leg is bouncing. He's been sat in meetings or at desks all day. Millicent even rejects his lap as a place to curl up, sensing he's too restless. He strokes the ginger cat, on auto-pilot, sighing when she wanders away. He needs to go for a walk. Yeah, it's late. Yeah, its dark. But it's Friday, it doesn't matter if he's out till stupid-o’clock - he can sleep in tomorrow.  
  
Decision made, he pulls on his coat and walking boots, and heads out the back door. His unkempt garden leads onto a field, via a hole in the hedge that he's never bothered to fix. The farmer doesn't seem to mind him skirting round the edge of his crops to reach the actual footpath. From there, it's half a mile until a fork that takes you over the moors, or along the coast. He chooses the moors, this time. He couldn't say why.  
  
The moon is full and the sky is cloudless, so he can see well enough to avoid tripping on the stony path. If he had a poetic soul he could comment on the beauty of gorse and heather and grasses all tinged silver. But he doesn't. Hux knows all the public footpaths that criss-cross this area by now, and without really deciding to, he follows one of his less-frequent routes. It should be about six miles, so maybe two hours' walk.  
  
He's been walking for one of those hours, mind finally emptying of the week's built-up stress, when he hears something. He stops, holding his breath to try to catch it again. After a moment, the wind carries the noise over to him. It sounds like… crying. Not _human_ crying, more like an animal in distress. He looks around, frowning, but there's nothing in the silvery darkness, not that he can see.  
  
As he stands there, frozen with indecision, he hears it again, a piteous whine, eloquently full of pain. He's moving before his analytical brain can provide the full list of reasons this is a bad idea. Something is hurt, and he might not be able to help, but he has to _try_.  
  
Attempting to be quiet, he picks his way through the springy grass, following the rough direction the noise is coming from. He reaches a lip, with an ageing barbed wire fence running along it - probably a relic from a past attempt at controlling livestock. There are less than a dozen posts before it peters out, and the wire is warped in places. In fact, a few meters along, it seems to have broken altogether. Hux edges towards the break, realising one of the strands of wire has been pulled free of the posts and disappears over the ridge. He checks his footing and peers down.  
  
In the hollow below, there's a large, dark shape, sprawled on the ground. A dog? A bloody big one, if it _is_ a dog. It whimpers, sounding distraught. He can't make it out at this distance, but he's willing to bet the animal got itself caught up in the barbed wire, and wrenched it out, struggling. He considers calling the RSPCA, or a vet - it's midnight, but those places must have on-call responders, he thinks. But he doesn't actually know if the animal is hurt. It might just be stuck...  
  
Taking care not to snag his clothes, Hux climbs through the broken fence, and shuffles down the slope. He freezes when the animal - it's definitely a dog - notices him. It looks directly at him, ears pricked up. For a long moment, neither moves. Now that he's closer, Hux is realising that this thing looks very, very much like a wolf. The shape of the muzzle, the pale, amber eyes, the sheer size of it…

“There aren't any wolves in Devon,” he says, out loud. Maybe Scotland has wolves somewhere, but that's the opposite end of the country. “You're probably just someone's dog who got away from them and accidentally ran through a fence. And lost your collar in the process...”  
  
He can just about make out the barbed wire, wrapped around one of its hind legs. He edges closer, expecting to be growled or snapped at, but the dog – he has to force himself not to think _wolf_ \- just whines again. Hux's logical brain is clamouring that this is stupid. Animals in pain lash out, even domestic ones. But the poor thing seems to be exhausted - it's just lying there, legs barely twitching, even as a strange human approaches. Like it's accepted that it can't escape.

“Okay, okay…” Hux mutters, taking a deep breath. “I'm gonna get you out of this mess, but I need you to _not_ bite me.” The dog sniffs at him, and then slowly lays its head down on the ground. Huh.  
  
Deciding that's as close to assent as he's likely to get, Hux fumbles his phone out, switching on the torch. The dog doesn't react, so he props it against a stone, managing to angle the light towards the trapped leg. It's a mess of matted fur and blood, the barbs digging in cruelly.

“Okay, Hux. You got this. Just find the end of the wire, and unwrap it.” He inspects the area, finally spotting the snapped-off end. The dog yelps as he touches it, and he freezes, gritting his teeth to keep from flinching.

“I know it hurts, I know - but it'll be better afterwards.” The dog can't understand him, but he keeps talking in a calm, comforting tone - or as calm as he can make it - hoping it will keep still. He peels the wire up, easing barbs out of the ugly cuts they've dug into the dog's leg. The poor thing whimpers, but it doesn't try to snap at him, even when he has to move its leg to get the wire out from underneath.  
  
Hux can feel his heart pounding in his chest, and he's clammy with sweat. Was Hercules this terrified, when he pulled the thorn from the lion's paw? Was that even Hercules? He forces himself to breathe slowly, keeping up his litany of nonsense to reassure the dog. The wire got wrapped twice around its leg, but appears to have snapped before it could pull too tight, so most of the gashes are ugly, but not too deep.

“I hope you can find your way back to your human - they should be able to get you sorted out.” A quick trip to the vet is probably all it needs, in Hux's far-from-expert opinion. As he approaches the final barb, Hux shifts his weight, getting ready to spring away.

“Nearly there, that's it - you've done so well for me.” He flings the wire free, grabs his phone, and scrambles back up the slope, getting out of pouncing range.  
  
The dog leans around, sniffing at its leg, and then gingerly levers itself up. For a blood curdling moment it looks at Hux, eyes piercing. And then it turns and lopes away, limping on its injured leg.  
  
Hux's knees give out, and he sinks to the ground.  
  
It takes him a long while to convince himself it's safe to get up.  
  
* * *  
  
He still wakes up early the next morning, like he always does. He tops up Millicent's food bowl, but the cat joins him outside as he waters the pot plants, winding around his legs. He's just reached the begonia when he realises it's gone very quiet. Usually, he can hear birds twittering in the hedge and the trees nearby, even when Millicent is with him. But now there's nothing. It's eerie.  
  
He sets the watering can down and looks around. The hair on the back of his neck is prickling, some kind of latent animal instinct warning him of danger…  
  
There's a wolf, staring at him through the gap in the hedge. It's huge, with amber eyes and dark fur and… and he recognises it. Shit. That's the dog-wolf-thing he found on the moors, and it's much less easy to convince himself it's a pet, in the stark daylight.  
  
It must have tracked him home. He needs to get inside, now. Dimly, Hux remembers you shouldn't hold an aggressive dog's stare, you lower your eyes to show submission. Breathing shallowly, Hux flicks his eyes down. Millicent is puffed up, next to him, clearly terrified of their visitor. Taking a chance, he scoops her up, cradling her to his chest. Her claws are pricking him, but at least she's not scrabbling to escape.

“It's okay, Millie, I've got you. Nothing to be scared of,” he murmurs. When he straightens up, the wolf is gone. That's much worse. Scanning around frantically, Hux takes a few shaky steps back towards the house.  
  
There's a man standing there, right where the wolf was - tall, broad and for some reason shirtless. He's got a mop of dark hair above piercing eyes, a prominent nose, and a pale scar, running from his forehead all the way down one cheek. He looks around Hux's age - maybe a bit younger? Hux clocks all these details with the small part of his brain that isn't demanding to know where the hell he appeared from, or insisting that won't matter if he gets mauled by a fucking wolf.

“Sir,” says Hux, urgently. “Sir, I've just seen an animal that might be a wolf. You should get inside until I can call animal control out here.” The man grins at him.

“Oh, don't worry - that's just me.”

“You?”

“I'm the wolf.” What? Maybe he means the dog-wolf-whatever belongs to him?  
  
The man eases himself through the gap in the hedge, not caring about the brambles, and holy shit he's completely naked. Hux is almost too stunned to notice the very appealing cock that's hanging soft between his legs. Almost. Millicent hisses as he approaches, claws digging into Hux's arm.

“See?” says the stranger, “she gets it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I'm a werewolf.” Hux blinks.

“Are you on drugs?” The man laughs. “Look, you're in the middle of nowhere, stark naked, insisting you're a werewolf, of all things, and-” He notices the ugly tears and gashes in the man's thigh, the dried blood, the unsteady gait. “And you're limping,” he finishes, stupidly. “Did you fall?” The man raises an exasperated eyebrow.

“I got tangled in some barbed wire - you saw me. You're the one who _untangled_ me.” Is he… is he speaking for his dog in the first person? Hux has to admit, he's had whole conversations with Millicent, playing both her role and his, but this… doesn't sound like that.

“You saw me trying to help that dog?” He tries to be clear. “Last night, on the moors, about midnight?” The man's mouth pulls into a lopsided smile.

“It was a full moon, remember? I couldn't shift back to my human form until this morning. I wanted to say thank you. These would have been a lot worse if you hadn't come along.” He gestures to his injured leg. This is nonsense. The man is clearly a lunatic, but at least he doesn't seem dangerous, just delusional. And it's not like he could be concealing a weapon… Hux scrubs his face with his free hand.

“Okay, whatever else is going on here, you need those treating. I have a first aid kit. Come in, I'll patch you up.”  
  
Later, Hux will try to kid himself that the stranger's chiselled chest, heavy arms and off-beat but cute face had no influence on his decision. He's just being a good samaritan. He pulls open the back door, letting Millicent go when he feels her wriggling. She darts upstairs, tail like a bottle brush. Casting around, Hux grabs a pair of boxers off the airer.

“Here, put these on. I need at least this much of you covered.” The man stops himself uttering what was clearly going to be an innuendo, and eases the material up long legs, over the still-oozing cuts. Hux isn't sure why he feels so dwarfed. The man is only an inch or so taller than him, but he seems too big for the poky kitchen, somehow. Hux pulls a chair out.

“Sit,” he says, already rummaging for the first aid kit. The man doesn't move.

“I'm a werewolf, not a dog,” he says, tone clipped.

“Huh?”

“I don't like being ordered to sit.” If Hux had an ounce of self-preservation, that statement would have been another little red flag labelled ‘crazy’. Instead, he's just losing patience.

“Stand then, but I guarantee sitting will be easier.” He sets the first aid kit on the counter, fills a bowl with warm water and finds a fresh cloth. When he looks round, the man has sunk reluctantly into the chair.

“Okay,” he says, trying to sound like he isn't desperately running through what his first aid training had taught him about cuts and lacerations. “I can clean these up and dress them, but if any of them need stitches, that's beyond me - you'll have to go to a hospital.” He kneels down beside the man, pulling a pair of gloves on from the kit.

“Yes, doctor.” The man is grinning down at him. Hux ignores him, turning his attention to the ugly tears in the skin. Most of them have stopped bleeding, so he carefully rinses the dirt and dried blood off. Try as he might, he can't think of anything except barbed wire that could have made this much mess.

“You're lucky these aren't deeper,” he comments, mainly to distract himself from how well muscled the thigh is.

“Yeah,” his patient sighs. “If I'd had more strength, I probably would have struggled harder. I wasn't thinking properly.” He pauses. “Sometimes it's very frustrating not to have hands.” Hux bites off a laugh.

“I can imagine.” The whole werewolf thing is ridiculous, but… But he remembers unwinding the metal barbs from the poor dog, and this pattern of wounds is very much the same.  
  
He finds a small tube of antibiotic cream, and smooths it in a thin layer over the skin. Hopefully that will prevent infection.

“You've had all your tetanus vaccinations, right?” Rusted barbed wire on the moors had to be _teaming_ with bacteria. He tapes a couple of pads over the deepest cuts, and then fishes out a gauze bandage.

“Your cat matches your hair,” the man comments, reaching out to pat Hux on the head.

“Stunning observation.” He carries on winding the bandage around the powerful thigh.

“Did you get her to match?”

“No, I inherited her from my grandma. Like the cottage.”

“And the hair?” That gets a small smile.

“That’s from the other side of the family.” Hux secures the bandage with a safety pin, double checking that he's covered the whole mess. The man's foot doesn't seem to be going purple either, so he's not done it too tight. He eases himself up, automatically taking the large hand that's offered to him. Christ, the man is as strong as he looks. He notices something else.

“You have goosebumps. You're cold?”

“I mean, it's April, and I'm basically naked.”

“Why _are_ you naked, by the way?”

“Cos if you shift while wearing clothes, you tend to tear them.”

“Still sticking with that, are we?”

“What do you want? It's the truth!” Hux sighs, evaluating him. The man's shoulders are way broader than his.

“Hang on, I think I've still got some of my ex's clothes in a box, those might fit you.” As he pads upstairs, he hears the man chuckling.

“So, tall and strong is your type, then? he calls.

“Tall and strong is everyone's type,” he shoots back.  
  
Millicent is perched on his bedroom windowsill, and she mews anxiously, pushing up into his hand so he has to stroke her.

“It's okay, Millie,” he murmurs. “I know you don't like strange men in your house, and this one is plenty strange.” He begins pulling boxes out from under the bed, giving each cursory rummage.

“Some people like twinks!” He hears from the kitchen. Hux rolls his eyes.

“Some people like crazy,” he yells back. “How's that work out for you?”  
  
Wait, is he actually flirting with this unhinged man? The weird, excited fluttering in his stomach says yes, emphatically. Oh, this is _not_ a good idea...  
  
But… surely it wouldn't be so bad to just get laid, if the man's interested? He doesn't have to start a full-blown relationship if all he wants is a good fuck. Maybe whatever god is up there has taken pity on him and his two-year dry spell, and dropped a naked hunk right into his lap…  
  
He stops short, an abandoned t-shirt in his hands. Is he misconstruing this conversation because _his_ version of flirting is trading snarky insults? His gaydar isn't great, and he's had embarrassing experiences before... Maybe try to collect a bit more information on that point, he tells himself, don't get ahead of yourself.  
  
The man is gulping from a glass of water when he gets back downstairs, and Hux feels like an idiot for not offering him a drink. In the light from the kitchen window, he notices more scars decorating his back and chest, along with an abundance of beauty spots. He tries to stop staring, pushing the small stack of clothes at him.

“I never introduced myself…”

“You're Hux, right?” Hux frowns at him, as he pulls a t-shirt over his head. “You called yourself Hux last night. What sort of a name is _Hux_ anyway?”

“It's my surname, idiot.”

“What's your first name?”

“I don't like my first name.”

“You know you can deed-poll it to whatever you want, right? Case in point, I'm Kylo Ren.” Hux snorts.

“You _chose_ that? At least I can blame mine on my parents.” The man shrugs, easing on some pyjama trousers.

“I happen to think it suits me. Anyway. Thanks for helping me, Hux.” He holds out a calloused hand, and after a moment, Hux shakes it.

“No problem, Ky-”

“Ren,” the man cuts him off.

“No problem, Ren.” Abruptly, Ren's stomach growls, and he winces. “Well,” says Hux, “I don't have any dog food… Would cat food do?” Ren flips him off.

“I eat human food, ass.”

“Oh, ass too? Good to know.” There's a pause, and then Ren bursts out laughing.

“Thank god! I had you pegged as a total prude - I'm so glad you're not!” Hux is a bit offended. “Do you have any idea how hard it was not to make a comment, with you just kneeling there between my legs?” Hux smirks.

“I'm sure it was terribly _hard..._ ”

“See, I knew I'd like you.”

“Acerbic gingers are _your_ type, then?”

“I discover something new about myself every day.” Inside, Hux is lighter than air.

“Did you _discover_ what you want to eat?” he asks, bringing them back to the original topic.

“Honestly, I'm going to pass out from exhaustion pretty soon. Anything fast would be great.”

“Cereal then?” Ren's face practically lights up. Hux opens one cupboard and fishes a bowl out of another. When he passes him the milk, he realises Ren has poured a horrific mix of every cereal he owns into the bowl.

“What? You don't have Coco Pops, I'm making do.” He's already shovelling cereal into his mouth.

“Just… go sit on the sofa - it'll be more comfy.” Ren wanders through into the living room, plonking himself down. Hux follows, not quite sure what to do with himself. He's never seen anyone eat so fast. “You sure are _wolfing_ that down.”

“Fuck your puns, Hux, I'm hungry,” says Ren. Hux stands up again, unable to bear the hurried chewing and slurping.

“I'm going to make toast. You want toast?” Ren nods eagerly, holding up two fingers. Two slices, then. “Butter and jam?” Another nod.  
  
By the time he gets back with the toast, Ren is stretched out on the sofa, one arm over his face, snoring lightly.

“Ren?” says Hux. No response. He _had_ warned Hux he was going to pass out, but Hux hadn't expected it to be so… immediate. There's a blanket draped over the back of the sofa, because the tiny house gets cold during winter, so Hux tugs it out from where it's half-wedged, and spreads it over Ren, covering as much of his lanky body as possible. The empty cereal bowl has been unceremoniously dumped on the floor, so he picks it up, retreating to the kitchen to finish what is now _his_ toast.  
  
He doesn't dare go out, partly in case Ren turns out to be a thief, and partly in case he takes a turn for the worst. He'd seemed confident that all that's wrong with him, apart from his messed up leg, is exhaustion and hunger, but Hux remains sceptical. He should have tried testing whether his pupils responded to light - that was something paramedics on TV always did with suspected junkies... Not that Hux knows what he's looking for.  
  
He ends up cleaning the kitchen, and bathroom, and his bedroom, and finds he's actually quite grateful for the opportunity to tidy up before Ren sees any more of the house. Not that it's ever _un_ tidy, or _un_ clean. Hux has long accepted his fastidiousness as both a flaw and a strength.  
  
He does keep glancing out the windows, but there’s no sign of a wolf.  
  
* * *  
  
Ren is still snoring on the sofa by the time Hux is finished making chilli for dinner. It's almost cartoonish, the way he sniffs himself awake as Hux is dishing it out.

“Chilli?” he asks, yawning. “Please tell me I can have some.” Hux hands him a heaped bowl and a spoon.

“I'm not quite cruel enough to make it and then _not_ offer you any. You aren't allergic to… anything, are you?”

“Nah, I can eat whatever.” Hux tucks himself up on the battered armchair with his own, more modest, portion. It's not his favourite recipe, but it's reliable and easy to bulk out in case of ravenous dinner guests.

“This is amazing!” groans Ren, mouth full.

“Well, they say hunger is the best spice.” Ren gives him a look that says he noticed Hux's self-dig and is choosing to ignore it.

“In contrast to raw fish and rabbit, it's fucking orgasmic.”

“You… you've been eating…”

“What I can catch, yeah. I'm a good hunter, but I've been moving almost constantly for the last few weeks, not conserving my energy.”

“Wait. You think you were hunting rabbits and fish… while you were a wolf… for _weeks_? That sounds like a really, really bad trip.” Ren rolls his eyes. “I'm serious. What did you take?” It must have been a psychotropic, or a hallucinogenic…

“Hux,” says Ren, loudly. “I'm not on drugs. I didn't take anything.”

“Do you even know what day it is?” Ren pauses, a spoonful of chilli halfway to his mouth.

“I may have lost track.” Hux groans.

“It's Saturday. April 28th.”

“Huh.”  
  
He'd been low-level assuming this man was just holidaying at one of the nearby campsites, maybe experimenting with something new, ended up naked in Hux's back garden, thinking he was a werewolf. But. Maybe he's just plain old crazy. Which is a pity, because crazy doesn't wear off.

“I'm not crazy either,” says Ren, startling him. His thought process must have been obvious. “Look, I have given you plenty of reasons to believe me - I have the same injuries as the wolf you helped, I knew your name, you _saw_ me, this morning, as a wolf _two seconds_ before you saw me as a human.”

“Yeah, all compelling evidence, except for the fact that werewolves don't bloody exist!” Ren levels him with a stare.

“That's it. I'm staying until I can prove it to you.”

“You're just inviting yourself to stay?”

“Chill out, it won't be for long.” Hux can tell from his smirk that Ren's winding him up deliberately.

“Why not show me now?” he demands, with a bravado he doesn't really feel.

“One, I'm still knackered. Two, it'll dislodge all the careful bandaging you did.”

“Oh no, not the bandages,” Hux deadpans.

“Three, there's a chance you might freak out - not a huge chance, given how brave you were last night - but I'd like to recover as much as possible before you kick me out.” Hux very much doubts he could physically remove Ren from the premises, if Ren didn't cooperate. But he doesn't feel _threatened_ , even if the man is bonkers…

“Okay,” he says eventually. “I'm game. But until then, I reserve the right to think you're _barking_ mad.” Ren throws a cushion at him.  
  
* * *  
  
His bedroom door doesn't have a lock on it, so he wedges his chair under the handle. It takes him a long while to fall asleep.  
  
* * *  
  
When he finally comes downstairs the next morning, he finds Ren still sprawled on the sofa, in a position that makes his spine ache in sympathy. He doesn't try to wake him up, but it's already 11am, so he also doesn't make much effort to be quiet.  
  
Sure enough, when he brings his breakfast into the living room, Ren is sitting up, scrubbing his face blearily.

“I made porridge, if you want some.”

“Porridge?” He sounds disgusted.

“It's filling, easy to make a lot of, and you can add however much sugar or honey you want. Logically, it should be your ideal breakfast.”

“Oh, well you didn't say there was _honey_ ,” says Ren, pushing past him into the kitchen.

“Second cupboard left of the oven,” Hux calls, sitting down. It doesn't surprise him when Ren wanders back in with the whole saucepan.

“So, I have a number of questions,” says Hux, once his guest has scraped out the last dregs of porridge. He'd made a list of them on his phone this morning.

“Tell you what, can I answer them in exchange for a bath?”

“Sure.” He knows Ren found the bathroom at some point, because the unopened toothbrush he put out yesterday has been used. Ren heads for the stairs, pausing when Hux doesn't move.

“You coming?”

“I'm not helping you take a bath, you're not that injured.”

“Shame. But I meant you could ask me stuff through the door while I'm soaking. I feel like it'll be easier to talk if I can't actually _see_ you scoffing.”

“I'll make sure to scoff audibly then.” Hux follows him upstairs, _not_ staring at his pert, muscular ass.  
  
Ren's just set the water running when he remembers-

“Towel!”

“Towel?”

“Hang on, let me grab you a fresh one.” Hux finds a clean bathtowel, putting it in the questing hand that Ren's poked through the gap in the door. Their fingers brush.  
  
When the lock clicks again, Hux breathes out. He's stood on the landing like a lemon, trying not to imagine Ren stripping off a few feet away. He could get a chair, but somehow that feels weird, like conducting a formal interview, so he just sinks to the floor, leaning back against the bathroom door.  
  
Ren turns the taps off, so Hux clearly hears him step into the bath, sighing luxuriantly as he settles into the warm water.

“Hux? You there?”

“Yeah.”

“What's your first question?” Hux is about to open the notes app when something else pops up in his brain.

“Do you need to call anyone, tell them you're not dead?” Whether is _has_ been weeks or not, someone might be missing him.

“Hmm. My family are pretty used to not hearing from me for months at a time, so they won't be worried yet. And my housemates won't notice as long as my share of the rent keeps getting paid. They'll probably be happy to have less competition for the bathroom.” He sounds so blasé.

“Don't you have a job or something, then?”

“I _was_ bartending, but seeing as I stopped showing up with zero explanation, I think it's safe to say I do _not_ have a job anymore.”  
  
Wait, he just… took off? No warning, no nothing? Hux can't imagine the fits his clients would throw if he just upped and left. Millicent pokes her head out from his office, intrigued, and he pats his lap until she comes over and sits on him, rubbing her cheek against his knuckles.

“What made you run away?” Ren goes quiet, and Hux is beginning to think he won't answer.

“I get… antsy, if I stay human for too long. It's like my skin starts to feel too tight. So one night I… left. I hid my key, ditched my clothes, shifted… and then I just ran. And I couldn't think of a good enough reason to _stop_ , so I kept running. And eventually I ended up here.” Ren's been so confident and sure this whole time that it's odd to hear him sound… what? Disappointed in himself? Maybe he does have insecurities after all.  
  
The water sloshes as Ren moves, and there's the sound of him uncapping a bottle.

“I'm using your shampoo, by the way,” he says, breaking the awkward silence.

“Go ahead.”

“Let me tell you, if you used Old Spice, I wouldn't have even _contemplated_ talking to you. That stuff reeks even when I'm human.” Hux has to agree there.

“'Old' is the operative word,” he says, “Makes you smell like a nursing home's geriatric heartbreaker.” Ren chuckles, lathering the shampoo into his hair.

“What else did you want to ask?” Hux considers for a moment.

“Do your family know you think you're a werewolf?”

“Most of my family are werewolves too. My mum is, my uncle is, my grandfather was. Turns out it's genetic.”

“But you don't call them your pack?” teases Hux.

“What can I say? I'm a lone wolf.”

“You don't know any other werewolves, besides your relations?”

“Well, there's also Rey, she isn't from my family. She's good fun - not afraid of herself like mum and uncle Luke. Much more willing to appreciate how objectively awesome it is, being a wolf.”  
  
As he talks, a hollow, sinking feeling starts growing inside Hux. Of course there's a girl, a fellow werewolf who understands Ren better than Hux ever could. He can picture them running together, through the woods, in the moonlight.  
  
His head thunks back against the door, and he hopes Ren didn't hear that. It takes him a few moments to realise this attack of jealousy is predicated on Ren _actually_ being a werewolf.  
  
Which kinda brings him to the main question. The one that kept him awake last night. He's quite glad he can ask this while Ren's behind a locked door, naked and soaking wet, in case he needs that extra head start. If Ren is _really_ a werewolf, then…

“Why are you telling me all this?” he asks eventually. “I mean, if you believe it's true, then you're taking a huge risk, revealing yourself to a human.”

“It's not that big a risk.”

“Because you're going to kill me before I can tell anyone?” He hears water sloshing as Ren sits up.

“What? No, because I _trust_ you, moron.”

“How can you trust me? You've known me less than two days.”

“Yeah, and in that time you've been nothing but kind. Prissy and pigheaded too, obviously, but still kind.” Hux doesn't know what to say. “Plus, you're lonely and I doubt you have anyone to tell anyway.”

“Wow, thanks. Such a charitable assumption.”

“It's not an assumption. I scoped out this place, before I approached you. No one else has been in the house for weeks - I'd have smelled it otherwise.”

“You do realise how much like a serial killer you sound, right? You're hearing yourself?” Ren laughs.

“It only sounds weird cos you _don't_ believe I'm a werewolf. Makes perfect sense if you do...”

“No, I'm pretty sure 'I followed you and staked out your home' sounds bad either way.” A pause.

“Proving I'm a werewolf is going to be way easier than proving I'm _not_ a serial killer,” he huffs.

“Well, yeah, proving a negative is almost impossible.”

“So what do I do, Hux?” His voice is pained.

“Try telling me something that _doesn't_ make you sound like a psychopath.” Another pause.

“...You wanna know how I got these scars?” Hux bursts out laughing, so loud that Millicent leaps off him.

“Alright, Mr J., tell me about the one on your cheek, the big one.”

“Motorbike crash. Skidded over going round a corner - my helmet saved most of my beautiful face, I just ended up with a few scars as a memento.” Of course he rides a motorbike. Very on-brand.  
  
“Hux?” he asks, when Hux doesn't say anything.

“That might be the first question you've answered without reference to the werewolf thing - well done, congratulations.”

“You can't see it, but I'm flipping you off right now.”

“Don't worry, I figured.”  
  
Goddamn it. Why does he like this guy so much? Physically, sure, he's impressive, but he's also… funny. He returns every volley, every barb Hux sends him. Hux can't remember the last time he was actually _interested_ in someone, actually _wanted_ to talk to them.  
  
Hux pulls up his work calendar on his phone, scanning down Monday. No client meetings, and no internal meetings he's vital for. He quickly updates it so everyone can tell he's working from home. Tuesday he'll have to go in, but at least that's an extra day to decide what to do about the delusional werewolf in his bathtub…  
  
Once Ren's rinsed, dried off, and endured Hux asking if he feels more _human_ for a nice soak, Hux re-does the bandages on his leg. He pointed out that Ren could probably manage it himself, but Ren had protested that he wanted Hux to see how well he was healing. Bastard wasn't wrong, either - all but the worst cuts were closed up already.  
  
They end up on the sofa, watching a film. Ren had spotted it while scrolling through the TV guide, and when Hux said he hadn't seen it, insisted they watch. So far, Hux does not feel like he was unduly missing out. They've both got their feet propped up on the little coffee table, and if Hux relaxes completely, they'll be touching.  
  
Millicent prowls in, watching the two of them with suspicion. She usually sleeps on the armchair, so Hux assumes that's where she'll head, and returns his attention to the film, until…

“Uh, Hux?” He glances round, realising Millicent has jumped up on Ren's lap, and is kneading him, staring him down. Ren looks a bit panicked. “What do I do?” he whispers.

“Just sit still and let her settle, then maybe you can stoke her.” He's trying not to laugh. Ren has his hands up like he's surrendering.

“Claws!” he hisses. “Why the claws?”

“Oh shush, you big baby. It's not that bad.”

“Maybe you're just used to it. Cats never like me - I think they can smell the wolf.”

“Ah, well, you did have bath today, so you don't stink like a wet dog anymore.”

“Hey! I did not stink. I was bathing in streams or rivers almost every day, I'll have you know.” Hux shivers at the thought. Maybe the cold water is bearable if you have wolf-fur.  
  
Gingerly, Ren lays a hand on Millicent's back, now she's curled up in a neat circle. An ear twitches, but she seems to tolerate it. “Good kitty,” he says.  
  
During the next commercial break, Hux makes hot chocolate while Ren berates him for not having some kind of service that would let them skip the adverts. Hux hands him a mug, careful not to disturb Millicent.

“I never asked about your job.”

“Huh?

“It's Monday tomorrow, right? Do _you_ have to go to work?”

“Oh, I arranged to work from home.”

“Nice. What do you do, then?” Hux pauses. He can predict how Ren's going to react to this.

“I'm a tax accountant.” Sure enough, Ren is trying to contain a snigger. “Go on, make your comments.”

“No, no, it's just… it suits you.”

“Harsh.”

“I might have guessed stock trader, or insurance salesman. It had to be some kind of dry, white-collar job.”

“Well, it sure is that - equal thirds spreadsheets, meetings and admin. But… well, _I_ like it,” says Hux, trying not to be snippy.

“What do you like about it? I know it takes all sorts, but god, that sounds like my idea of purgatory.”

“I… like the order. I like organising numbers so they make sense.”

“Ah, because people so rarely do,” says Ren sagely. Hux would swat him, if he weren't currently harbouring a sleeping cat.

“You make even less sense than most people,” he retorts. Ren sticks his tongue out, grinning.  
  
The sequel is on immediately after, and as Hux gets to sleep in a whole extra hour tomorrow, they carry on watching. By the time it's over, Ren's got his feet on Hux's lap, and Hux is sort of stroking them absently. They seem to have mutually agreed not to mention this.  
  
* * *  
  
Hux doesn't bother blocking his door shut.  
  
* * *  
  
He wakes up with a start, as a warm weight jumps on his bed, onto him, and a long tongue licks his face. He gets an arm out from the covers and pushes the tongue back, forcing reluctant eyes open.  
  
The amber eyes of a wolf stare back at him, far too close. Panic makes him wrench himself back, scrabbling to get away, but he just collides with the headboard. The wolf cocks its head, and then… And then it _changes_ and half a second later, it's Ren looming over him, wearing a shit-eating grin and nothing else.

“Ren?” he says, voice cracking.

“Told you,” he says. Then he leans down and kisses Hux, on his stunned, slack mouth. Hux's brain absolutely cannot cope with all this before his alarm has even gone off. Ren pulls back, eyes searching his. “Come on, Hux, give me something to work with.”

“I… Hang on. Hang on! You're really a werewolf.”

“Yes.”

“You're not crazy.”

“No.”

“…Can I pet you?” Ren frowns.

“Why?” Hux doesn't know why he said that.

“You looked… soft. I want to know if you're really that soft.” Instead of answering, Ren nips gently at Hux's neck, and oh… that's nice… that's really nice.

“I can tell you somewhere I am definitely _not_ soft.”  
  
Finally, his brain engages properly.

“Oh, you'd prefer me to stroke some of your human parts instead, right?”

“Fuck yes.”

“Well, too bad. I have work.”

“What time?”

“9am.”

“So we have a whole half-hour!” God, Hux would like nothing more than to spend half an hour exploring Ren's gorgeous body with his hands and his mouth.  
  
Actually, he'd like to spend a good deal longer. And if he starts now, he probably will.

“Fuck-”

“Me?” says Ren, hopefully. Hux squeezes his eyes closed.

“Can we do this later?” he hears himself ask, much to his own disappointment. Ren's properly laughing now.

“Of course, if you can stand the anticipation.” Hux groans. He'll have to. Soft lips brush his cheek, and he smiles.

“Let me up, I have to shower.” Reluctantly, Ren flops onto his side, and Hux levers himself up, a few joints cracking as he stretches. The light filtering though the curtains is drab and grey - it'll probably rain later, so at least he won't need to water the plants…  
  
He stops dead, looking at the man sprawled on his bed.

“…Show me again.”

“Huh?”

“Do your shifting thing.”

“Having trouble processing?” Hux pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah, I think so.” Ren doesn't even move, there's just a ripple and instead of a man, there's a wolf, limbs more or less in the same pose Ren had been.  
  
Hux sits down, hard. He wasn't dreaming. That is the same wolf he found on the moor Friday night. The same wolf he saw staring into his garden Saturday morning. The wolf - Ren - shifts back, and again, it's like his eyes don't really see how it happens.

“Hux?” says Ren, concerned. He scrambles off the bed. “You've gone even paler than usual, somehow.”  
  
Oh yeah, there's a weightlessness in his head that means he's probably about to faint. He leans forward, head between his knees, trying to slow his breathing. A warm hand comes to rest on his back, rubbing in slow circles.

“That was a hella delayed reaction,” Ren murmurs.

“Sorry,” croaks Hux.

“You're not screaming or running away, so I'll take it.” There's a pause. “I didn't mean to spook you.”

“Bullshit,” says Hux. “You were definitely trying to spook me, pulling that reveal.” Ren isn't the least bit sorry.

“Couldn't resist. You're adorable when you're flustered, and you deserved it for not believing me.”

“I deserved nothing of the sort.” Ren chuckles, nudging him.

“But you believe me now.”

“Yes,” sighs Hux.

“Which means I'm not crazy.”

“Yes.”

“Which means I'm your type…?”

“Yes,” says Hux, voice small.

“Which means we get to have amazing sex-”

“This evening, I promise. I have a call at nine. I need to get ready.”  
  
* * *  
  
Hux drags himself into the bathroom and leans on the sink, staring at himself in the mirror.

“I just talked my way out of getting laid, for the first time in two years.” He says it out loud, so it sinks in properly. “Fuck.”  
  
* * *  
  
“…But of course we can always push that back to-”

“Hux!” squeals Phasma, making him start. “You didn't tell me you got a dog!” Confused, Hux twists round, realising that Ren, in his wolf-form, has nudged the door to his office open. Phasma leans forward, her face filling the camera, as if that could get her closer.  
  
Ren gives him a look that's impossible to interpret, and puts his front paws up on the desk. Phasma squeals again.

“He's adorable! When did you get him?”

“Uh, he's not mine…” says Hux.

“Look at his fluffy face!” The cooing tone of voice, the redundant observations - he has _never_ seen Phasma like this, in all the years she's worked for him. It's such a change from her reserved, efficient self it's giving him whiplash.

“Is he a Malamute-cross?” she carries on.

“Mala- what?”

“Malamute, it's a husky-looking dog breed.” Hux googles it.

“Oh. I… don't think so?” Ren is nosing at the webcam, to Phasma's delight. Clearly he plans on being no help whatsoever.

“You don't know??”

“Like I said, I'm just looking after him...” Phasma isn't really listening anyway.

“You're such a good boy! Aren't you? Yes you are!”

“He is _not_ a good boy,” mutters Hux, which earns him a lick from Ren.

“What's his name?”

“Uh... Kylo?” says Hux.

“Don't listen to the nasty man, Kylo, you are the cutest, fluffiest boy I've ever seen.”  
  
Ren licks his face again, and Hux is pretty sure he's deliberately getting slobber everywhere.

“Okay, I'm going to phone you back once I've sorted him out.”

“Nooooo-” He ends the call. Once the webcam light has turned off, he glares at Ren.

“Are you done amusing yourself at my expense?” There's a ripple, and suddenly he is eye-level with Ren's very human crotch.

“For now. That was a lot of fun. You are such bad liar.”

“I am an _excellent_ liar, thank you. I'm just bad at improvising.” He ignores Ren's chuckle. “Anyway, I thought you hated being treated like a dog?”

“Oh, I do, but I'm not above tolerating it for personal gain.” Hux sighs.

“What did you want, Ren?”

“I'm sure I saw a tablet in here - can I borrow it? And a stylus, if you have one?” Hux passes him the tablet. It has a stylus slotted into the back, not that Hux has ever used it.

“I should probably at least check my emails,” says Ren. He does not sound enthusiastic.

“What's the stylus for, then?”

“Drawing. I've got some commissions to work on.” Hux appraises him.

“You're an artist? And here I thought you were an unemployed bum.”

“Don't get me wrong, I _am_ \- I just also draw stuff for people, occasionally.”  
  
* * *  
  
Hux pads downstairs, finding Ren sprawled on the sofa, tablet and stylus comically small in his large hands. He looks up eagerly, and Hux has to shake his head.

“Just lunch break, I'm afraid.”

“It's like 3pm!”

“It's a win for me if I remember to take a lunch break at all.”

“How can spreadsheets possibly be so engrossing that you forget lunch?” Hux shrugs.

“I'm gonna make a sandwich - want one?”

“I'm okay. By which I mean I have already raided your food stocks.” He's still grinning, but he does have the grace to look a little embarrassed. “Would you believe me if I said werewolves need more calories than humans?” Hux groans.

“Is there still bread left?”

“Yes…”

“Good.”  
  
Ren wasn't kidding. 'Raided', he'd said. 'Plundered' would also be apt. Or 'ravaged'. Hux had thought he'd be fine arranging a shopping delivery for next weekend, but nope.  
  
Sandwich in hand, he kicks Ren until he frees up some sofa space, and sinks down next to him. He's put the TV on, for background noise, and Hux absorbs a bit of the news before Ren's movements distract him. He's sketching something with quick, rough movements, pinching to zoom in and out on the tablet.

“What are you working on?” Ren rubs the back of his neck.

“I'm weird about showing people my work in progress - I have to finish it first. Or at least finish the line art.”

“Fair enough.” Hux wasn't going to push it, but Ren seems to remember that he does, in fact, owe Hux for quite a lot of food, and relents.

“If you wanna see stuff I've done before, I'll get my gallery up.” He exits the drawing program, and logs in to another app, scrolling through until he finds whatever he's after. “Okay,” he says, passing Hux the tablet. “Scroll right.”

Hux spends quite a long time on the first image. It's a surfer, riding a gigantic wave, full of sea life. The lines are bold and the colours strong and it's so… fluid? Hux isn't much of an art connoisseur. He swipes right. The next picture is more of a character study, of a sulky-looking girl with freckles. The next one is of a deserted street at sunrise.

“Wow,” he breathes, and Ren's posture relaxes a little. He scrolls through a few more. “These are beautiful. They're so varied, but they're all your style.” He winces. “You know what I mean, right?”

“Yeah, I know. I like the challenge of drawing different things. Some of these are commissions, some are fanart, some are based off photos or paintings. And some I just thought up and wanted to draw.”

Hux scrolls right again and stops short. Ren glances down, grin widening.

“Ah, you've reached the furry porn section.” Hux blinks at a silver-furred wolfman stroking his improbably large erection and howling as he comes. “Comparatively very lucrative,” Ren says, enjoying Hux's discomfort. “Furries pay a lot to get art of their OCs.”

“OCs?” echoes Hux, still glued to the well-endowed wolfman.

“Original characters. Or fursonas.”

“I guess… it's not like you can have real-life furry porn. It's all got to be drawn…” He looks Ren square in the eyes. “Wait. Please, please tell me you use yourself as an anatomical model. That would be hysterical.”

“Even I'm not hung like that,” Ren snorts. “But I definitely do have an advantage, in terms of realism. I've been told people appreciate that, though they're usually commenting on a reblog of a reupload on pinterest or something.”  
  
Hux keeps swiping, out of morbid curiosity, struggling to school his face into neutrality.

“I have to get back to work,” he says eventually.

“Still up for afterwards? Not put off by the sordid side of my occupation?”

“Don't worry, spreadsheets act as mind soap.” He leans over and kisses Ren, chastely, pulling away before he can drag him closer. Which he _was_ about to do. “See you in a bit.”  
  
* * *  
  
Hux gets absolutely no work done in the next two hours. He's too keyed up. Anticipation is thrumming in his veins and he feels like he's had a double espresso and an energy drink back to back. He keeps picturing Ren, as he was this morning, gloriously naked and grinning at the prospect of undoing Hux.  
  
* * *  
  
It's almost unheard of for him to leave on time, but he logs off barely a minute after five. He takes a moment to freshen up and collect the things he needs, very glad his condoms haven't expired. Then he finds himself standing in his room, paralysed with indecision, debating the merits of bringing Ren to bed, against fucking him on the couch.  
  
The bed is more spacious and comfortable, of course, but it's also more… intimate? Plus he'd have to scoot Millicent out of the room, and she might make a fairly un-sexy fuss…. He can't decide what he wants, and it's _important_ , because… because somehow it feels like he'll only get one shot at this.  
  
Okay. Deep breath. Calm down.  
  
He goes downstairs.  
  
Ren raises his eyebrows when he closes the door behind him, and Hux nods tightly. A second later, Ren's jackknifed to his feet and pulled Hux against him, making him drop all his provisions. Warm arms circle his waist, and a warm mouth presses against his, teeth nipping a little, asking for entrance. Hux shudders, opening his mouth for Ren's insistent tongue, sliding his arms around the man's neck. It's wonderful. Ren's controlling the kiss, making him follow his dance, and Hux might be out of practice but at least he remembers the steps. They grind against each other, both already getting hard, enjoying the friction.  
  
Ren pulls back, leaving Hux panting. His smile is infectious.

“Clothes,” he says, “Come on.” He lets Hux drag the t-shirt over his head, undoes his shirt buttons while Hux's hands are exploring the scarred skin and heavy muscles of his chest.

“You work out a lot?” he asks, curious. Ren chuckles.

“Running on all fours is a solid workout.” That _would_ explain the bulk of his shoulders and arms. Hux is a little self-conscious as Ren untucks his shirt, sliding it off and throwing it on the floor. He's nowhere near as toned, and his skin is moon-pale, but Ren hums his approval, fingers skimming over his pecs, down his ribs, across his stomach.

“Delectable,” he murmurs, making Hux snort. Hux buries a hand in his shaggy hair, guiding him into another deep, sensual kiss.  
  
They get in each other's way, with the urgency of removing their trousers, but finally they're fully naked, bodies pressed so close, hands everywhere.  
  
Hux walks Ren back, until his knees hit the sofa and he sinks down. He smiles at Ren's worshipful expression, quickly straddling his lap before the burst of confidence leaves him. Ren makes an appreciative sound, stroking Hux's thighs. Then it turns into a laugh.

“What?” Ren is staring down at his very hard cock, and that is possibly the worst point to start laughing. “What?” says Hux, sharper.

“The carpet matches the curtains,” Ren manages, gasping.

“What did you bloody expect?” Of course Hux has ginger pubes, that's how hair works.

“I know, I know - I've just never seen… God, you're gorgeous,” he finishes, looking up at Hux's scowl. “Kiss me, please?” Hux rolls his eyes, defeated, and leans in. It's searing, tender and urgent all at once, and then Ren wraps a hand around his length and Hux makes a very undignified noise.

“Stop a sec,” he begs, after only a few strokes. Ren obliges. “How are we doing this?”

“How?” Hux pushes his dishevelled hair back.

“Do you like topping?”

“Fuck yes,” Ren breathes.

“Right, you're on top then.” He wishes he didn't sound so businesslike, but he needs to sort this out while he's still got some higher brain function. “Hang on.” He exhibits no grace whatsoever dismounting Ren's lap. “Where did I drop them…?”

“Drop what?” asks Ren. Hux finds the lube and wet wipes and finally the condoms, chucking them on the sofa next to Ren. “Ah, good thinking.” Ren holds a hand out, helping him climb back on.  
  
Hux traces his fingers over Ren's abs, following the trail of dark hair under his navel, all the way down to his eager, leaking erection. He's seen a decent amount of Ren's cock, given the man is naked more often than not, but he hasn't had the chance to appreciate it, in its full glory.  
  
It's not an exaggeration to say he's got the biggest cock Hux has ever seen - in person, anyway. His jaw aches just thinking about sucking on it, and as for how it will feel in his ass… He shivers, anticipation and trepidation warring for dominance. Maybe he should have pre-prepared himself a bit…

“Hux?” He realises, belatedly, that he hasn't moved for a while. Ren is watching him with curious eyes. “You're nervous.” Hux scowls at him. “Don't be like that - talk to me. What's up?”

“It's nothing.”

“It's not. Look, we can do it the other way round, if you're intimidated by my size…” He waggles his eyebrows.

“No…”

“No, you don't want to switch, or no, you're not intimidated?”

“Neither! I just…” He blows out a long breath, looking through the window instead of at Ren. He should have closed the curtains. Not that the lane ever gets much traffic. He swallows. He _is_ nervous. Damn perceptive bastard. “I haven't done this for a while.”

“A while?”

“…Two years three months.” Ren's mouth is twitching like he's trying not to laugh.

“Is that why you freaked out this morning?”

“Partly, yes.” Hux can admit that much. “Mainly that was shock from the 'oh hey mythical creatures just fucking _exist_ ' revelation.”

“Well, I can only speak for werewolves… Look. We don't _have_ to do any penetration stuff,” says Ren, gently. “There are plenty of interesting options...” Oh god, he's being way more considerate than Hux anticipated.

“Ren. I don't want this to sound like I'm using you, but I am. I want to get fucked, I want you to fuck me with that magnificent cock, I want to _feel_ it tomorrow, how tender and empty I am. Can you do that for me?”

“Holy shit.” Ren's cock bobs, and he fists it, not moving, just trying to keep himself under control. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Excellent. Pass me the lube.” Ren fumbles as he hands Hux the little pump-action bottle. Hux is about to slick his fingers up when Ren grabs his wrist.

“Wait, wait - let me?” Hux pauses. His experience is that partners tend to rush through this, eager to get to the main event, and with Ren's size, that would be painful. But he does have long, thick fingers, to match the rest of his frame…

“It… uh. It might take a while,” he says.

“Good. I want you to be absolutely begging for my cock before I give it to you. You want to get fucked? I want to make you _scream_. Deal?” It's Hux's turn to feel a surge of arousal shudder through him.

“Deal.”  
  
Ren drags him into an open-mouthed kiss, nearly growling with the urgency of it. Hux grabs his head, angling it better as he hears the click of the lube's cap, and then a slick finger is circling his exposed asshole. He tries to close his legs, on instinct, but Ren's thighs are holding him open.

“Guh,” he says, eloquently, when Ren eases the tip inside him, just dipping in and out, reminding him how this feels. It's not that he hasn't had anything up his ass for two years, but he doesn't indulge that frequently, and to be frank, it's a very different sensation, when someone else is opening him up, to when he does it himself. He knows how fast he can push - Ren doesn't. So he's being careful, thorough, taking it luxuriously slowly. He's slid the whole of one finger inside him now, wiggling it to make Hux moan.

“You're like velvet fire in here,” he whispers. “I can't wait to feel you wrapped tight around my cock.” He's going to _have_ to wait a bit though, because his dick is considerably bigger than his finger.  
  
As if hearing him, Ren begins to push a second digit in, alongside the first. Hux is trying to hold still, but his hips keep shifting, trying to push back, trying to pull away - he's not sure which. He makes the mistake of opening his eyes, and finds Ren watching him, drinking in his little gasps and moans.

“So responsive,” he grins, cutting off Hux's retort by scissoring his fingers, making him shudder.  
  
Hux reroutes enough concentration from the delicious stretching of his hole to wrap a hand around Ren's cock, stroking him lightly. Ren's eyes roll back, head lolling.

“Hux…” he breathes, “you don't play fair, distracting me like this.”

“Tell you what, I'll make it even.” He lines his cock up, taking both in his hand, pressing and rubbing them against each other. Christ, that's delicious. Ren's huge and solid and he can practically feel his pulse throbbing in the heated length. Or maybe it's _h_ _is_ pulse. Whatever. Doesn't matter as long as it carries on feeling this _good_. Ren bites his shoulder, muffling a groan.  
  
Looking down, he can't help comparing them - his own cock is perfectly adequate, average length, girth, nice curve to it, but Ren's… It dwarfs him, and fuck if he doesn't really, really like that image. Ren pushes a third finger into him, and he tries to stop himself clenching down on the intrusion as it stings a little.  
  
He swirls his thumb over Ren's head, spreading the precome that's beading there. Maybe he should get some lube involved, but he kind of loves the friction, the softness of Ren's skin over the heated iron core of him, the way it drags against his. His hand can barely close around the both of them, but it's enough, as he pumps them slowly.  
  
Ren is panting now, biting his lip until Hux leans in to demand a kiss. He can feel himself getting looser, back there, Ren's thick fingers spreading him and stretching him so nicely.

“Give me another,” he whispers into Ren's ear, earning himself a savage twist that has him gasping. He squeezes Ren tighter, in revenge, but the man beneath him is suddenly babbling.

“Oh, Hux, fucking _stop_ , please! I'm going to blow before I get inside you.” Grinning evilly, Hux lets go of their cocks. Ren's chest is heaving, and his talented fingers have stilled.

“Can't have that. I want to feel you lose it when you're balls deep, I want to drag your orgasm out of you with my tight, hot passage…” Ren swears, free hand clamping over Hux's mouth.

“The more you talk the less chance I have of fulfilling that desire.” Hux has never thought he was particularly good at dirty talk, but Ren's desperate, pained face is eloquent praise. He makes a zipping motion along the back of Ren's hand, over his mouth.  
  
Sighing with relief, Ren resumes his ministrations, applying more lube, easing a fourth finger in. Hux leans forward, resting his forehead against Ren's, and lets himself feel what Ren's doing, the weirdness of fingers wriggling inside him, the slight burn of his rim being held open, the _fullness_ … He's going to feel a lot fuller with that fat cock inside. It'll go so _deep_ …  
  
“I'm ready,” he pants.

“Sure?”

“Yeah, come on, I need you.” Ren carefully withdraws his fingers, cleaning them with a wet wipe. Which he then chucks on the floor, but meh. He raises an eyebrow as Hux climbs off him, knees unsteady.  
  
“I want you on top of me,” he explains, lying back on the couch, spreading his legs in invitation. Ren's eyes go dark and hungry.

“Fuck, condom, hang on…” he grabs a foil packet, tearing it open and quickly rolling the latex down over his cock, followed by another generous dollop of lube. Then he's looming over Hux, supporting himself on one hand as he uses the other to line himself up. Hux tilts his hips, as much as he can, and then the blunt head is pressing against his hole, and he can't help panicking that it won't fit, it's too big, he can't possibly- and then it slips inside.  
  
Hux's hands clamp on Ren's shoulders, nails biting, and he holds still, panting, waiting for Hux to adjust. It doesn't _hurt_ , but there's a pronounced twinge as his body protests the intrusion. He takes a few deep, shaky breaths, willing his muscles to relax. After a moment, he looks up, meeting Ren's concerned gaze.

“Too much?” Hux shakes his head, a smile bubbling up.

“I'm fine, keep going - carefully.” There's sweat beading at Ren's temples as he pushes forward, muscles flexing with the strain of taking it obediently slow. Hux feels so… vulnerable, being split open by the inexorable slide of Ren's cock - like he'd shatter, if it weren't for the man above him, murmuring praise, telling him over and over how well he's doing.  
  
Going slow makes it seem like the massive cock will never end, it'll just keep pushing deeper and deeper inside him, taking him over. Every time Hux thinks that surely that's all of it, Ren feeds him a little more.

“Fuck,” he gasps. “Fuck, you're huge.” Ren chuckles.

“Nearly there, I promise.” Hux forces down the rising urge to make him take it out, to admit he can't cope. He _can_ , it's _good_ \- it's just so intense, being filled like this, and he needs his lizard-brain to calm down.  
  
Finally, Ren stops, chest heaving, arms trembling.

“Don't move yet,” Hux whispers. Ren nods, closing his eyes, a little furrow between his eyebrows.

“Yeah, I need a minute myself.”  
  
For a heady second, Hux wonders if he can make Ren lose it right here, maybe if he clenches around his cock… Oh fuck, it's so big and _s_ _olid_ inside him that he can barely control his inner muscles, they're stretched to their limit.  
  
Ren swears as he tries though, and Hux winds his hands into Ren's hair, tugging gently. Ren comes down onto his elbows, bringing their chests flush, and kisses Hux, just a sweet, teasing brush of lips, both of them too preoccupied for anything more.

“Okay?”

“Okay.” Ren's sigh of relief turns into a groan as he pulls back, cock sliding out of Hux's heat, and then presses back in. He's not using the whole thing yet, just warming up with a couple of inches, letting Hux reacquaint himself with the way the pressure inside him changes as his walls stretch and relax.

“Oh…yes…” Ren hisses, “So tight, squeezing me so tight.” Hux can't speak, he's got no space for anything except _feeling_. Gradually, Ren lengthens his thrusts, and the long, slow drag is fucking delicious. Hux tries to shift his hips, to get a better angle, but Ren's as heavy as a car on top of him, pressing him down as he thrusts, making him appreciate every inch of him.

“Wrap your legs around me,” Ren pants. Hux gets his ankles over the small of Ren's back, and that's enough to make that massive cock graze his prostate as it moves. Hux keens, head thrashing, and Ren does it again, same angle, giving Hux a beautiful, sharp burst of pleasure to complement the satisfaction of fullness.

“There?” asks Ren, but he's teasing, he knows full well he's found the right spot. He turns his head, nuzzling into Hux's throat, and Hux yelps.

“Oh shit, yes!”

“You're sensitive here?”

“Yeah… I'd forgotten…” Ren nips him, gently, and licks a long stripe up towards his ear and Hux feels like he's about to explode. The sensations slide straight down to his cock, where it's trapped between them, leaking precome onto Ren's abs.  
  
Instinctively, he tightens his legs, getting more friction on his cock, getting more pressure against his prostate, getting Ren to somehow slide _another_ inch inside him, bottoming out with his balls snug to Hux's ass. Both their eyes widen, and then by unspoken consent Ren picks up the pace, hammering into him, mouthing at his neck, breath coming in jagged pants.  
  
Hux feels his control start to slip as he approaches the edge, unable to hold back, helpless against the onslaught of euphoria Ren's giving him.

“Ren!” he screams, “I'm coming. I'm coming _now_!” And then everything in him tightens, pulses, erupts. He can't see. It's perfect. It's like being bowled over by a wave, swept along, no idea which way is up. Hux shudders, his cock jetting come between them, balls tight, clinging to Ren desperately.  
  
Dimly, he hears the man above him moan, losing his rhythm as Hux spasms around him, dragging him over that glorious precipice too. He buries his face in Hux's neck, hips twitching as he empties himself.  
  
Minutes later, neither of them has moved, despite Ren's weight slowly crushing the breath out of Hux. Ren flicks his tongue out to lick at his throat, and Hux pushes his head away with a groan.

“Too much,” he pants. Levering himself up, Ren grins, probably surveying his handiwork.

“That was…”

“Incandescent?”

“Yeah. Good word. That'll do.” Hux pushes a lock of dark hair back behind his ear.

“I really need you to get out of me now,” he says, and Ren snorts a laugh. He holds on to the condom as he slides his softening cock out, and Hux winces, hole beginning to close up. He is going to be deliciously sore tomorrow.  
  
Ren ties off the condom and at least wraps it in a wet wipe before dropping it on the floor. He passes Hux a few and they both clean come off their fronts. Good thing they separated when they did, or they'd be glued together with drying spunk.  
  
Ren flops back down on the sofa, nudging Hux until he rolls off with an indignant shout.

“Hey!”

“Come here, lie on me,” says Ren, patting the sliver of space beside him. Still glaring, Hux grabs the discarded blanket and carefully eases himself down. Ren's arm comes around his waist, pulling him closer, and he ends up with his head pillowed on Ren's chest, legs entwined, blanket spread haphazardly over them.  
  
Ren sighs, contented, sated.

“Doing okay, little fox?”

“'Little fox'?” Ren winces.

“…I said that out loud, didn't I?”

“I've had worse nicknames. I'm assuming it's a hair-colour thing?”

“Yeah, sort of. I was thinking that if you were a wolf, you'd actually look more like a fox, because of your hair.” Well, that explained why Ren's fur is so much darker than a regular grey wolf.

“Could you do that - turn me into a werewolf? By biting me or something?” he asks, keeping his tone casual.

“Would you want me to?” Ren counters.

“Well, you haven't mentioned many drawbacks… Unless it's really painful to shift, or you get fits of insane bloodlust?”

“No, nothing like that. I guess the main disadvantage is you have to be careful not to be discovered. You _do not_ want to be stuck in hospital, or jail, or on a plane during the full moon.” Hux would bet Ren has had close encounters with all three. “Or get shot by overzealous hunters or farmers...”

“Wouldn't they need silver bullets?” Ren's chest shudders as he laughs.

“I think any bullet in the wrong place would be fatal, though funnily enough none of us have volunteered to test that. Anyway,” he says, “werewolf-ness… werewolf-ism…”

“Lycanthropy,” Hux interjects.

“Sure, that. It's not transmissible, as far as we know. So if you're into biting, we're okay.” He can probably feel Hux's face twist with aversion. Hux wonders who the volunteers were for testing _that_ out.  
  
They lapse into silence for a while, both exhausted. Normally, Hux would be asleep, lying warm and comfortable after having come that hard, but his brain is whirring.

“So,” he says, when he can't contain himself any longer, “how _does_ your werewolf thing work?” He hadn't really asked about gritty details before, confident it wasn't real.

“How does what work?” _Ren_ sounds pretty sleepy.

“Can you just change whenever you want?”

“Yeah, except the full moon forces us into wolf form.” That's why he couldn't just change back and untangle himself from the wire. It occurs to Hux that injuries must persist between forms, a bit like hair colour... So what happens if he hurts his _tail_?

“Do you still have your human faculties, when you're a wolf? You're still fully intelligent?”

“Hux, I'm trying to bask in the afterglow - do you have to interrogate me _now_?”

“I could have done it before we had sex.”

“…Point taken. What was the question?”

“Human brain, wolf body?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Isn't it weird, with the different senses? Or, hell, just being quadrupedal instead of bipedal must be tricky to adapt to...”

“Hux, I first changed when I was five weeks old - I've had a lot of time to get used to it.” Hux is picturing baby Ren suddenly turning into a wolf cub, and wondering how his poor parents reacted, before he remembers Ren said his mother was a werewolf too.

“Well, that answers my question about when you found out you were a werewolf. I wondered if it was a fun puberty surprise...”

“You know what _was_ a surprise?”

“What?”

“Wolves don't see as many colours as humans - I didn't know your hair was red until I shifted.” Huh, interesting. Hux is used to that being one of the first things people notice about him.  
  
“Which form do you prefer?”

“Wolf,” says Ren, instantly. “The senses are so much sharper - it makes everything more interesting. And running… I can't describe it. It feels free, I guess. But, there are two big drawbacks - you can't speak, and you can't pick shit up. And those are very important. I think most people take them for granted, cos they never have to go without them.”  
  
Hux hums in agreement. Ren seems to consider his answer a bit, fingers drumming idly on Hux's skin.

“I'm not saying I don't _like_ being human, I just…”

“You mentioned you get restless, if you don't shift for a while?”

“Yeah, that's a good way to describe it.”

“Is it the same for your family?” Ren pauses.

“I don't think so,” he says, cautiously.

“They tend to stay human?”

“Yeah, they only really shift when the moon forces them to.” Hux doesn't need to be a psychiatrist to detect some kind of old wound under there. He wants to tell Ren he's welcome to use whichever form he pleases, but that sort of implies he's going to stay…  
  
Abruptly, Ren's stomach rumbles. Hux can feel the vibrations from it.

“Sorry…”

“Were you serious earlier, about werewolves needing more food than humans?”

“I think that's just a _me_ -thing.” Hux props himself up.

“There's still leftover chilli?”

“Please.”  
  
* * *  
  
Ren deposits the scattered evidence of their nude activities in the bin while Hux is microwaving dinner, and they eat watching reruns of a mild sitcom, shoulder to shoulder. Afterwards, Ren slings an arm back round Hux, and he's so _warm_ that Hux ends up almost dozing off.  
  
When he realises how late it's gotten, he groans, extracting himself and stretching.  
  
He pauses, with a hand on the hallway door.

“Ren… Are you coming to bed? To _sleep_ ,” he adds, when Ren gives him a lascivious grin.


	2. And you can...

He wakes up to feel thick fur under his hand, and realises blearily that Ren's shifted during the night. Hux wonders if that was intentional, or whether his body sometimes relaxes into its wolf-shape. He eases himself up, trying not to disturb the sprawl of wolf, legs twitching as he dreams.  
  
Ren's gone when he gets back from the bathroom, so he doesn't have to deal with getting dressed under the scrutiny of a new partner. He's choosing a tie when a whistle behind him makes him start. Ren is leaning against the door frame, massive arms crossed, eyeing him appreciatively.

“Did you really just wolf-whistle me?” Ren grins.

“Appropriate, right?” Hux goes back to tying his tie, ignoring the flutter in his stomach. “You look good in a suit. Really good.”

“It's an expensive suit,” he says dryly.

“You're rich?” Hux can't blame him for not noticing - he doesn't flaunt it much. He buys good quality, but he doesn't really splurge much.

“My job pays well,” he says, “And inheriting a house will do wonders for your savings.”

“Well, that's good, because I ordered a pair of shoes with the card details stored in your tablet. They should be arriving today.” Hux closes his eyes. This man. This impossible, irritating, amazing man.  
  
He accepts that this is entirely his fault for not logging out of everything before he handed the tablet over, but somehow he trusts Ren not to do anything malicious. Or more malicious than shoe purchasing.  
  
Ren refuses to move from the doorway until Hux gives in and kisses him - and to his credit, he doesn't try to rumple the suit.

“I'll be back about six.”

“I'll make sure I'm done wanking off to you in this fucking suit by then,” he purrs. Hux presses closer. Two can play this game.

“Think about me fighting not to blush every time I move - I'm so tender, where you split me open. It _aches_ and I can't stop thinking about having you again. I do hope none of my colleagues realise…” Ren looks gobsmacked.

“You started it,” Hux reminds him, sliding past his frozen body, complete with burgeoning erection.  
  
* * *  
  
The story he comes up with, anticipating Phasma will grill him for more details, is that Kylo’s owners recently moved abroad, and didn’t want to put their sweet dog through the stress of travel and quarantine until they had everything settled, so they asked Hux to look after him.  
  
He’s pretty pleased with it, confident the lie accounts for his fumbling yesterday - and provides an explanation for when Ren inevitably leaves…  
  
Phasma, a bit disapproving, asks him if Kylo will be okay, home all day on his own. Hux assures her he'll be fine, with more confidence than he really feels.  
  
When he checks his personal email at lunch, he finds _kylorendrawsstuff@gmail.com_ has sent him a photo of Millicent curled up on his lap, with the message, “she's purring!!!”.  
  
* * *  
  
Traffic is light, so he manages to be only half an hour later than he'd said. Ren's lying on his front on the sofa, not drawing, just tapping at a game. He's actually dressed, for once, jeans accentuating his firm ass. Hux does _not_ smack it, but it's an effort.

“I'm going the supermarket,” he says, “You want anything?” Ren drops the tablet, bouncing up.

“Yes! You have almost no snack food in the house and it's driving me crazy. So, crisps, sweets, biscuits obviously…” He trails off, seeing Hux's mild disgust. “Actually, can I just come with? I don't trust you to buy any of that stuff.”

“Sure,” says Hux, jangling his keys. “You can even stick your head out the car window if you want.” Ren is on him in a flash, shoving him against the wall, body pinning his. He kisses the defiant grin right off Hux's face.

“I don't know why I thought you'd stop with the dog insults once you found out I _am_ a werewolf,” he growls, biting at his lip, making him gasp. Being kissed like this really isn't much of a deterrent. “You'll just have to make amends by buying me chocolate.”

“Chocolate, really?” says Hux, “Isn't that stuff poisonous?”  
  
Two rushed, rough, _wonderful_ handjobs later, they actually make it to the car.  
  
* * *  
  
At Phasma's insistence, Hux is working from home again. About four in the afternoon, his concentration is broken by a horrible yowl from downstairs, followed by a hiss and a skittering of claws.  
  
Hux jumps up, rushing down the stairs two at a time. He finds Ren, sat on the floor in the kitchen, naked and clutching his nose. He was sunbathing in the garden, the last time Hux had seen him, dark fur absorbing the meagre heat from the spring sun.

“What the hell happened?” Ren nods towards the living room.

“Millicent wasn't expecting a wolf to just walk in through the back door,” he says. Hux crouches down, peering under the sofa. Sure enough, two lamplike eyes stare back at him. Millicent has shoved herself into the furthest corner, where a wolf couldn't reach her.

“Oh Millie, it's okay, don't panic.” He wants to stroke her, but sticking an arm under there right now would be immensely stupid.  
  
He turns to the kitchen, where Ren has picked himself up, and draws the hand away from his nose. There's a couple of long claw marks down the side, red but not actively bleeding.

“Ouch. She got your muzzle, right?” He can picture both animals approaching the door at the same time, Millicent reacting first, swiping at his face. Ren nods, not looking at him. “You should clean those thoroughly - cat scratches can be nasty.”  
  
He pushes Ren towards the sink, and gets the first aid kit out again, finding the antiseptic cream. When Ren's washed and patted his face dry, Hux smears more cream over the marks. Ren is oddly quiet.

“What's wrong?” He's pretty sure Ren's not _hurt_ \- Millicent's scratches are usually more shock than pain. “Embarrassed you got beaten up by a cat?” His eyes find Hux's, and there's something desperate behind them.

“I didn't mean to scare her,” he blurts out. Hux tilts his head, puzzled.

“Of course not.” Hux knows _he's_ fair game for pranks and tricks, but Ren doesn't seem like the type to be mean to an innocent animal.

“She hasn't really seen your wolf form,” he says, thinking. Ren's been human most of the time Hux has been around, at least. “She warmed up to your human form no problem, so maybe she just needs chance to familiarise herself with your wolf one too?”  
  
It could be his imagination, but the tension in Ren's frame seems to ease.

“Should... should I change back _now_?” Hux glances towards the sofa, from which Millicent has not emerged.

“Maybe give her a chance to recover,” he smiles. He pops opens the tin that contains the cat treats, passing one of the little fish-shaped blocks to Ren. “Here, toss that under the sofa for her, but don't reach in or you'll get clawed again.” Ren nods, mouth twitching.

“What?” demands Hux, when he doesn't move.

“It's really unfair to keep those in a biscuit tin. Flagrant false advertising.” Hux had forgotten this was ostensibly a Scottish shortbread tin.

“You found them yesterday?” Ren gives a dramatic sigh.

“Thought I'd struck gold. Was very disappointed.” Hux pats his shoulder in mock-sympathy.  
  
* * *  
  
It's just after five when there's a knock at his office door. Hux scoots back, pulling it open to find Ren standing there, tablet in hand.

“You done?” Hux glances at his screen.

“Yeah, I'm just closing stuff down. Go on.” Ren enters, leaning against the wall while Hux fiddles with his email. Hux suspects he would be pacing, if the tiny room allowed it.

“I had an idea,” he says, “What would we do if I _were_ a dog? Like, say you adopted a new dog, how would you introduce it to Millicent?” Hux feels a weird burst of relief that Ren is trying to help. He's scrolling through a few pages about introducing dogs to cats, showing them to Hux.

“Some of these steps we can miss out because I'm _not_ actually a dog, and some we can miss out cos we already did this ass-backwards. Basically, you're right - she'll probably get used to me, as long as I don't go after her food, or accidentally trap her-”  
  
Hux wraps his arms around Ren's waist, pressing his face into the toned stomach.

“Hux?”

“Thank you,” he murmurs. “Millicent means so much to me. She's a grumpy old lady, just like my grandma.” Ren clears his throat.

“I mean, it's the least I can do. She's been here way longer than me.”

“Longer than me too,” Hux adds. He really doesn't want her to feel nervous in her own home. “Come on, let's try now and see how she reacts.”  
  
Millicent is curled up on her usual armchair, but her eyes open warily as Hux approaches. She wasn't deeply asleep, then, but she doesn't flinch when he strokes her. Hux double-checks the doors to the living room are both open, as Ren moves the coffee table to the side, throwing his clothes on the sofa. Hux is not sure he'll ever get used to how casually and frequently the man is naked.  
  
He sits in the middle of the room, waiting until Millicent looks at him to shift. She goes tense under Hux's hand, seeing the wolf reappear, but she doesn't immediately bolt, which was a very real possibility. Ren lies down, head on his paws, tongue lolling a little out of his mouth. He looks the picture of a friendly, patient dog.  
  
It's a little disconcerting, makes it harder to remember there's a human in there. Hux keeps stroking Millicent, trying to calm her.

“It's okay, baby girl,” he says, tone comforting, “It's just Ren - he's not going to hurt you. I know he's a big bad wolf, but he's nice really, you just have to get used to him.” He's very glad Ren can't speak right now.  
  
He scoots down so that he's sitting on the floor between the two animals, ruffling Ren's mane, trying to prove the wolf doesn't bite or snap. With his other hand, he holds out a cat treat, making little 'pspspsps' noises to encourage her.  
  
After a long, long minute of eyeing up the treat and the docile-seeming wolf, she delicately jumps down, snatching the little biscuit from Hux's fingers. She crunches it, already sniffing for more. Hux puts another on the floor, still a decent distance from Ren - far enough that he couldn't lunge at her.  
  
The guides say that animals feel vulnerable when they eat, so they're hoping that showing Millicent it's safe to eat around Ren might help fast-track acceptance.

“That's it, “Hux murmurs, “nothing to be scared of. He doesn't want your food, he's not going to chase you, he's not going to steal your armchair. Everything's fine.” She lets Hux rub her cheek, but she's still fixated on Ren.  
  
Hux isn't sure whether she'll understand that Ren is the wolf, and the wolf is Ren - it might depend on how similar their scents are. All Hux can tell is that Ren doesn't smell offensively dog-like in either form.  
  
Slowly, Ren lifts his head up, ears swivelling. Millicent puffs out a bit more, almost but not quite hissing.

“Shhhh, Millie…” He prays she's not about to add more pink lines to Ren's abused face. But then she's gone, a streak of ginger dashing out through the cat flap in the back door. Ren looks up at Hux, who realises he still has a hand on his back, and removes it.

“I feel like that went pretty well,” he says. Ren quirks an eyebrow. Wolf eyebrows are as expressive as dog eyebrows, it turns out. “She didn't attack you, or me,” he clarifies, “That's a win.” A ripple of movement and Ren is sitting next to him, human again.

“'Big bad wolf'?” he says, eventually. Hux rolls his eyes, a flush creeping up his neck. Ren leans in and nibbles his ear. “I'm going to blow your house down…”

“Euphemistically?”

“Of course.”

“If you call me 'little pig' we will be _done_.”

“I'm thinking my mouth might be too busy to call you anything, little... fox.” Hux shoves him over, but Ren just uses the momentum to pull Hux down on top of him.  
  
* * *  
  
Ren's figured out how to connect the tablet to the TV, so they watch his housemate's Netflix, continuing the sitcom from last night. Ren sits up from where he's been slumped against Hux, pulling his t-shirt and pyjama bottoms off. Hux raises an eyebrow, impressed and faintly alarmed that he wants more already. Ren sticks his tongue out.

“Just getting comfortable.” He shifts, laying his head in Hux's lap. Hux isn't sure where to put his hands, but in the end gives up fretting and buries them in the thick fur. Ren will indicate if he doesn't like that. He does keep the urge to stroke him firmly under control, though.

“You know I don't mind which form you use, right?” he says, in the few seconds of credits before the next episode starts. Ren glances up at him. “Yeah, you figured that out.” Hux answers his own dumb question. The wolf huffs what is probably a laugh, nestling back down.  
  
Hux makes himself concentrate on the TV show, because wolf or not, Ren's mouth is distractingly close to his crotch. And thanks to earlier, he's got memories as well as fantasies to contend with.  
  
There's a quiet, plaintive meow from the kitchen door, and he spots Millicent hovering there, not sure whether to enter.

“It's okay, Millie. Armchair's all yours.” Grandma used to hold court there, sitting like a queen while the rest of her family squeezed onto the sofa. Not _this_ sofa - he'd bought a new one shortly after he moved in. Almost everything transportable had been stripped by his relatives, pissed that grandma had left the house to him, despite none of them wanting it.  
  
Millicent edges round the wall, staring intently at Ren, and then hops up on the armchair. She sits in a little loaf, feet tucked in, ears twitching every time there's a loud noise. It's difficult, seeing her in even mild distress, but Hux reminds himself that 'both animals in the same room not bothering each other' is a late-stage milestone, expected to take weeks to reach.

“You're a little trooper, aren't you, Millie?” he murmurs.  
  
* * *  
  
Hux has nearly finished the washing up when Ren wraps his arms around Hux's waist, resting his chin on his shoulder.

“I need to go out tonight.” He's uncharacteristically hesitant.

“Go out?”

“For a run. In my wolf form.”

“Oh, I see.” It sounds almost like Ren's asking for his permission, but he has no idea why he'd need it. “That's fine… Why wouldn't it be fine?” Ren kisses his cheek.

“Can you leave a spare key for me in the back garden somewhere?” Ah. Hux looks down at the soapy water in the sink. Ren's worried he's outstayed his welcome. Maybe worried Hux will take the opportunity to lock him out. Neither of them have brought up Ren leaving, and Hux isn't sure if Ren's been deliberately avoiding the topic, but _he_ sure has.

“I'll put it under the fuchsia pot,” he says. Ren squeezes him.

“Thanks.”

“Hey, if you don't come back, should I bring wirecutters this time?” He's joking, but he's also not.

“I'll come back.” Something warm and hopeful flares up inside Hux. That might be as close as they'll ever get to admitting they want to stay together, that they'd be happy if this fragile, unreal-seeming interlude in both their lives could be preserved. Hux is aware Ren would laugh at him if he tried to vocalise that, but he's still holding Hux like he doesn't want to let go, so maybe he understands...

“Hux,” he starts, “what's a fuchsia?” Hux bursts out laughing, the almost-sentimental moment dispelled.

“You see the one with purple ballerina-like flowers, on the right?” Ren peers out the kitchen window, inspecting the line of pots.

“Oh, got it!” Hux really hopes he doesn't upend the poor plant.  
  
* * *  
  
Now that he knows it's okay, Ren goes out most nights. Sometimes he leaves when Hux goes to bed, and he'll wake up to find a contented wolf sprawled over him. He only has to tell Ren off once for getting muddy paw prints on the covers.  
  
Sometimes Ren will come to bed with him, but leave during the night, though he always makes a point of getting back before Hux goes to work. He'll wander into the kitchen as he's making tea, and kiss him so roughly that it takes the whole commute for his semi to calm down.  
  
* * *  
  
The next Saturday, exactly a week after their first (well, second) encounter, Hux is topping up Millicent's water bowl when Ren shoves the back door open, stark naked, and holds out a limp, furry body to Hux. Who does not take it.

“I caught us a rabbit,” Ren explains, brightly. Hux stares at him. He's having another of those 'what the actual fuck?' moments that seem to be so common around Ren. A little blood drips from the corpse.

“You know I have no idea what to do with a whole rabbit, right?”

“I guessed,” Ren grins, easing past him and depositing the rabbit on a chopping board. He washes his hands thoroughly, and then pulls on the shorts he's taken to hanging on the kitchen door handle.

“I can show you,” he offers slyly, “unless you're too squeamish?”  
  
It turns out Hux is very much too squeamish. Blood, fine. Skin and organs and bones, not fine.  
  
He stares fixedly out the window, breathing shallow, and eventually stops feeling like he's about to vomit. Sometime later Ren stops laughing and directs him to peel and dice some vegetables.

“We're making a stew?” he asks, washing the potatoes. That's his best guess, given the ingredients Ren's picked. The man nods, hands covered in viscera as he extracts the rabbit's innards. Hux regrets looking anywhere near him.

“I didn't know you could cook,” he says, swallowing and trying to keep his voice neutral. He wants to make a not-really-appropriate crack about Ren being domesticated, but nausea has made him weak.

“I can cook _this_. Cleaning game was one of two useful things I ever learned from my dad.”

“What's the other?”

“How to cheat at cards.”

“Fun guy.” Ren shrugs.

“Given that he had a wolf more often than a son, he did his best. Took me a long time to see that.” Hux understands the tension of not being what your father expected only too well.

“He used to hunt too, but with a gun,” Ren carries on. “I think the moment he was most proud of me was when I first came home with a rabbit in my jaws.”

“Ah, I see. Psychologically, you're hoping the same thing will impress me,” Hux teases. Ren doesn't rise to it though, which is odd.

“You've been feeding me for a week. It just felt like... I don't know. Like a small way of paying you back.”

“You don't _need_ to pay me back,” he insists, “Least of all by making rabbit stew at 9am…” Ren looks over his shoulder, clocking the tight smirk that means Hux is joking.

“Oh, give over - it'll take a couple of hours to cook, at least.”  
  
From the floor, there's an interested meow from Millicent. She's standing beside Ren, looking up with her most endearing 'feed me' face on.

“Can I give her the organs? Wait, what's the ‘food’ word for organs?”

“Giblets, which is an objectively worse word. But yes, go ahead.”

“You've probably caught yourself a rabbit before, haven't you?” says Ren, addressing Millicent as he drops some small lumps of flesh in her bowl. “A mighty hunter like you - you've eaten the hearts and livers of many of your enemies.” Hux watches the cat crunching and gulping.

“She caught a bat once.”

“A bat?”

“Yeah. She was so proud of herself she forgot to actually kill it, so when she dropped it in front of Grandma, it sprang back to life and started flapping madly round the living room. Grandma phoned me, more indignant than I'd ever heard her, and demanded I get rid of it. That was a fun evening.” Ren is sniggering, no doubt picturing a dishevelled Hux leaping from armchair to sofa to stool, fruitlessly chasing a bat.

“Whatever mental image you've got right now, I guarantee it was worse,” he says.

“The Benny Hill theme was playing in the background, then?” Hux gives him a look.

“It took me two hours to shoo it out the window, and another to clean up the guano it left behind.” Ren's shoulders are still shaking.

“Millie, you bad girl! I can't _believe_ Hux agreed to have you after that.”

“It's just a cat thing. Luckily she doesn't catch much now - or at least, she doesn't bring trophies inside.” Hux goes back to dicing carrots with the second-sharpest knife.

“Traumatic memory or not,” says Ren, “I have to admit I'm impressed. _I've_ never caught a bat.”

“What other stuff do you hunt? You mentioned fish?”

“Yeah, I can snap fish out of shallow water. Otherwise, rats, rabbits… Pheasants, sometimes. Though I'm not sure that counts as hunting when they're so monumentally dumb.” Hux has nearly run over several pheasants on the narrow country lanes nearby. They seem to have no sense of self-preservation whatsoever.

“Deer?”

“Nah, you'd want a pack for that. Deer are dangerous.”

“… _Deer_?” Ren waves the sharpest knife at him, in lecture mode.

“Anything fighting for its life is dangerous. Deer are close to my size, and they have four nasty hooves and maybe antlers as well. I'm not angling for that much damage.” He probably steers clear of most livestock for a similar reason, though that might be due to the risk of being spotted by farmers.  
  
Hux moves on to the celery, slicing it into rough chunks. He can easily imagine Ren leading a pack of wolves, running a stag down.

“Have you ever met real wolves?” he asks.

“I broke into a safari park once.” Hux nearly cuts himself.

“You what?”

“I was only like sixteen - young enough to think I was invincible and consequences didn't apply to me.”

“So what happened?”

“Well, turns out wolf packs don't like interlopers.”

“No shit.”

“They chased me off. I was extremely lucky to escape without being torn to shreds, by them or by my mum, once she found out. And that's how I learned I can't talk to wolves.” He sounds flippant, but somehow Hux intuits this was the act of a frustrated, confused teenager, trying to find somewhere he fitted in.

“So you can't communicate at all?” he asks, instead of mentioning this.

“No. I think if I'd been raised by wolves or something, I'd have absorbed the social cues and body language and stuff, but werewolves don't really have wolf instincts, in any useful way. We have the senses, but it's a human brain processing them.”

“But I mean, you _hunt_ \- isn't that instinctive?”

“Not really. It took me a long time and a lot of practice to learn. I've scared a good deal more woodland creatures than I've eaten.” Hux supposes there aren't many other things to _do_ , when you're a wolf.

“I wonder if Rey's still practicing…” says Ren, more to himself than to Hux. “She's a natural. I bet the two of us could take down a deer...” Hux pauses, about to push the chopped vegetables into the pan.

“Ren,” he starts, wishing he wouldn't. This ends with him being disappointed or mocked - there aren't any positive outcomes to be had. Maybe he should have started on the onions, then he'd have a plausible excuse for any waterworks. “Are you and Rey… together?” Ren bursts out laughing.

“What? No, of course we aren't! Even if I were bi, my uncle adopted her - she's technically my cousin now.” He glances sideways at Hux. “You're _jealous_??”  
  
Hux doesn't respond. He's too embarrassed to even feel relief.

“Hux, I'd give you a hug, but my hands are still bloody. You have nothing to worry about.”

“Sorry,” Hux says, as briskly as he can. Ren waves his apology off.

“That reminds me though, while we're on the subject of our ongoing relationship - can we get tested for STDs?” Hux blinks.

“Uh, sure, probably. You don't like condoms?” Ren gives him a filthy grin.

“I don't _mind_ them, I just have this overwhelming desire to watch my come leaking out of your asshole.” Well. That sure was something he just said, on a pleasant Saturday morning, while dismembering the carcass of a bunny rabbit.

“I'll arrange something,” says Hux faintly, struggling with the mental image Ren's conjured. While he's at it, his brain supplies one of Ren sucking him, unfiltered, swallowing his load and licking him clean.  
  
Maybe his firm's private healthcare covers STD checks…

“You show up as human, on medical tests?”

“Always have so far. Though I'm pretty sure I can't catch anything unless wolves _and_ humans are susceptible.” Best of both worlds, Hux remembers.  
  
***  
  
(The stew, when it’s finally ready, is delicious.)  
  
***  
  
As if giblets were a peace offering, when Hux next comes downstairs, he finds Ren lying on the sofa, fast asleep, with Millicent curled up between his legs. She’s licking his flank industriously, like _someone’s_ got to sort out this mess.  
  
It’s by quite some way the cutest thing Hux has ever seen, and he has to stop himself smushing them both. He checks his camera shutter sound is off, and takes a picture, setting it as his lockscreen. He sends it to Phasma as well, knowing she’ll have the same reaction as him.  
  
***  
  
The morning sunlight is filtering through the curtains, and Hux runs his fingers through Ren's fur, enjoying the quiet, peaceful moment.

“I took today off,” he says eventually. Ren's head comes up and he shifts back to human.

“I _thought_ it was getting late. How come?” Hux just shrugs.

“I don't know. Sudden impulse?” The truth is that he can't shake the feeling that Ren isn't going to stay here, with him, for long. He doesn't want to miss out.

“I bet you struggle to use up your holiday, don't you?” Ren is bang on target, so Hux just rolls his eyes instead of protesting. Ren scoots further up the bed, laying his head on Hux's shoulder. “So, what do you wanna do, after the mindblowing sex, obviously.”

“More mindblowing sex?” says Hux.

“An excellent choice.” Something flicks his cheek, and he leans back, trying to see…

“Ren,” he laughs, before he can stop himself, “you forgot the ears.” Poking out from his mop of dark hair are two pointed, furry ears. They twitch as Ren realises, and start to sink down. Hux makes a tiny, aborted, almost-nothing sound. Ren stops changing, eyeing him with interest.

“Do you want to touch them?” he grins, butting his head into Hux's hand, the one he hadn't even realised he'd lifted.  
  
Hux feels silky hair, and then suddenly there's soft fur under his fingertips. He rubs the ear, seemingly on autopilot, oblivious to the smirk Ren is giving him.

“Hux,” he says, “are you a furry?” Hux jerks his hand back, eyes wide.

“Of course not,” he splutters, blush betraying him.

“Oh my god, you _are_!” Ren collapses onto him, cackling.

“Stop it,” growls Hux, trying for commanding and missing by a mile. “I'm not a fucking furry.” Ren rolls half off him, and puts a hand deliberately over Hux's crotch, feeling the bulge that Hux had so hoped was hidden under the covers.

“All you did was touch my ears and you're rock hard.”

“Fuck off, that's just morning wood.” This is it. This is where Ren figures out the truth and runs for the hills. He thought… he hoped he'd have a bit longer.

“There's no point denying it,” Ren teases. “And no reason to. Or do you want to miss your best chance to fuck a wolfman?” Hux's traitorous erection bobs eagerly under the weight of Ren's palm.  
  
He closes his eyes, swallowing hard. Mercifully, Ren can tell he's trying to build up the courage to say something, and doesn't do more than rub him, slowly, through the covers.

“You remember that picture you showed me, the one from your gallery, with the silver wolfman-”

“Jerking off, yeah.”

“Well, I commissioned it.” Ren's hand stops, and Hux cracks one eye open, wondering if he'll see disgust or pity or…  
  
Ren is beaming.

“That was you?! Oh my god, this is perfect! Not only are you gorgeous and kind and a fucking _stunning_ lay, but you're also a good tipper.” Hux can't remember exactly, but he thinks he sent Ren double the commission rate.

“Well… I mean,” he stumbles, “It was exactly what I wanted…” Ren sits back.

“Tell me what you want _now_. I can control how I shift - you can have any combination of human and wolf you want.” Under Hux's stunned gaze, he lets his fur spread down his whole body, tail sprouting from the base of his spine, face pushing out into a muzzle. He looks like every piece of furry art Hux has ever shamefully wanked to.  
  
He can't move, can't breathe. This has to be some kind of trick, or prank. Ren's going to leap off him and point and guffaw at how desperately he fell for it. The human eyes in the wolf face roll. Gradually, Ren shifts back until he's mostly human.

“Shall we start with just the ears and tail? Take it slow?”

“Don't make fun of me,” he whispers.

“I'm not! Well, I am a bit, but mainly I'm delighted you have a kink I can so easily fulfil. Also, kudos for managing to keep it a secret - I genuinely didn't figure it out until just now.”  
  
Hux still wants to die. He puts his face in his hands, but Ren just sighs, prising one away and putting it back on his ear.

“Come on, Hux. Don't talk yourself out of this.” Hux frowns at him with the uncovered half of his face.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Why? Because I can, because you'll enjoy it, because I've never tried it.”

“You don't think it's... demeaning?” Ren chuckles, taking Hux's other hand and kissing it.

“You don't like me _because_ I can do this, right?” He swishes his tail and flicks his ears. “You like me anyway. This is just an added bonus.” Mutely, Hux nods. “Then it's fine - we're just two people using our bodies to make each other feel good.”  
  
Okay. Hux can deal with this. He wants Ren to find this as arousing as he does, but maybe it's enough that he's willing to try it. And fuck he looks adorable, with wolf ears sticking out of his hair.  
  
Seeing the protests finally dying off, Ren leans in and kisses him, tugging Hux's hand down and depositing it on his tail, using the resultant gasp to slide his tongue inside.

“I want you to pull my tail and fuck me,” he growls.

“You… want to bottom?”

“Yeah.”

“I can't promise I'll last long,” he says, stroking Ren's tail.

“I'm bringing one of your deepest fantasies to life,” he brags. “I'd be offended if you did.” He cups Hux's face, eyes shining.

“Listen, I want to give you something no one else can. So take it, take _me_.” Ren certainly has a gift for being teasing and tender and erotic all in one go. Hux sucks in a deep, shaky breath.

“Alright. Get off me a sec.” He pushes Ren's chest, getting enough space to fling the covers out from between them, and strip his t-shirt and boxers off. Ren settles back down, the skin to skin contact making them both groan. Hux slips both hands into his hair, finding the beautiful ears and rubbing them.

“Oh, Ren, they're so silky...” Ren's eyes have half-closed, a blissful expression on his face. “I hope you understand how much restraint I've been exercising, how hard it's been to resist doing this the whole damn time you're in wolf form.”

“You have my permission for future fondling,” he slurs. The ears twitch a little, as Hux rubs his thumbs in slow circles. Gently, he guides Ren down into another kiss, using the ears to hold him in place. He licks into Ren's mouth, meeting no resistance, their tongues sliding together in an eager dance. It seems touching his wolf ears might be a secret way to make Ren pliant and relaxed and languid in his arms. Hux files that idea away for further testing.  
  
Ren eases a thigh between Hux's, pressing their cocks together, and Hux bites his lip on a moan. He can feel the brush of Ren's tail, draped over his leg, and is momentarily frustrated that he doesn't have enough hands to stroke it as well as the ears.  
  
“Ren,” he says, when they next break for air. “Pass me the lube.” Ren grins eagerly, levering himself up and reaching for the bedside drawer.  
  
Hux takes the opportunity to slide out from under him, placing a hand on Ren's spine to guide him onto all fours. He strokes slowly, fingers gliding over every vertebrae, and Ren shivers.

“Lube,” he croaks, tossing the bottle in Hux's general direction. Hux ignores it for now, hand sliding lower, reaching the place where Ren's tail begins and stroking the length of that too. Now he's touching it in this context, now he's allowing himself to think about it, Ren's fur feels exactly as sensual as he'd imagined.

“Beautiful,” he whispers. Ren huffs a laugh. Part of him wants to hold that fluffy tail to his cock and rut against it for the few short thrusts he'd need to bring himself off. But, he reminds himself, they're doing something _better_.  
  
He finds the lube and coats his fingers, carefully lifting the tail out of the way so he can trace the furl of Ren's tight asshole.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.” He eases one finger inside, taking it nice and slow, one knuckle at a time. He's not sure how used to this Ren is - he must like bottoming, or he wouldn't have offered, but he's topped all the times they've had sex so far.  
  
After a few slow pumps, he tucks a second finger in, giving him a little more stretch. A soft whine escapes Ren, and Hux realises his ears have flattened back.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” comes the shaky response. “Keep going.” Hux pushes in a little deeper, starting to scissor his fingers against the clenching ring of muscle. Ren might need a bit of distracting from the foreign sensations in his ass, so Hux leans up, giving in to the urge to kiss every one of the freckles and scars adorning his back.

“What are you doing, little fox?”

“Worshipping you,” he murmurs, making Ren laugh again. With his free hand, he rubs an ear, and Ren turns his head to give him better access. As he thought, they're twitching when he stretches Ren's hole open. He's pretty sure it's not a 'pain' reaction, but it might be discomfort. Concentrating, he curls his fingers down, feeling along Ren's inner walls until he finds that textured bump… Ren shudders, violently.

“Fuck,” he growls, “Yes, please.” His ears prick forwards again, slipping out of Hux's hand, and he has to bite off a laugh at how expressive they are. He kisses another of Ren's freckles, pressing firmly against his prostate, drawing a moan from the man beneath him. He's alternating stretching his fingers apart and stroking the little gland, trying to make up for the burn with pleasure.

“Urgh, I didn't count on this,” Ren mumbles.

“On what?”

“I thought you'd go faster, I thought you wouldn't be able to wait. You're fucking undoing me with this teasing, Hux.”

“I'm not teasing, I'm just being _thorough_ ,” he grins, squirting more lube directly onto Ren's asshole, making him jump, then massaging it round with his thumb as he starts to ease a third finger inside. The ears have flicked back again, and Ren's breathing is fast and shallow, but he doesn't complain.

“Touch yourself,” Hux prompts, “Or I can - it'll help with the sting.”

“N… no. Leave it, please. I wanna _feel_ this.” Hux rotates his wrist, flexing his fingers to spread Ren wider, and Ren swears. Well, if he doesn't want his cock stimulating, maybe something less intense… Hux slides a hand between Ren's legs and gently cups his balls, rolling the weight of them in his palm.

“Okay, okay, that's nice…” Ren gasps. For Hux, there's something oddly comforting about having such a vulnerable part of your anatomy held, cradled, fondled. And Ren is making these adorable little whines, interspersed with heartfelt curses, as Hux continues to stretch him open, so clearly it’s good for him too.  
  
Wolves don't wag, but his tail is swishing back and forth, and Hux ends up having to release his balls to stop it hitting him in the face. Not that that's necessarily a _bad_ thing, but right now he needs to focus. He slides three fingers in as deep as they'll go, finding that magical spot again.

“Hux, come _on_ ,” Ren growls into the pillow. “Fuck me already.”

“Hmm, I'm quite enjoying this though,” says Hux, rubbing his prostate. “Your tail twitches every time I do that. It's adorable.” It really is. He can feel the brush jumping in his loose hold.

“I'd quite like to bring you off like this, stroking your tail, stroking your prostate, watching your ears flicker as you come undone...”

“What kind of evil have I unleashed here?” Ren groans. Hux leans down and bites the swell of his ass, making him yelp. The soft, animal sound jumps straight to Hux's cock, and abruptly his facade of patience is cracking and he's absolutely, helplessly desperate to get inside his lover. He takes a few long breaths, trying to calm his neglected cock, and gives Ren's hole a last stretch.

“Now?”

“I said 'now' five minutes ago!”  
  
He slips his fingers out, cleaning them with a wet wipe, and coats his cock in lube, shivering just from the sensation of his slick hand. Fuck. He is in a _way_ worse state than he'd hoped. If Ren gets more than five thrusts out of him, he'll be doing well.  
  
He eases Ren's thighs further apart, slotting himself between them, lining his cock up with that winking hole. Ren sighs as he feels the tip of Hux's cock against him, and presses back shamelessly, making the head pop inside. Both of them gasp.

“Ren, don't rush me, please,” Hux begs. “I'm clinging on by a thread here.”

“Sorry,” he grins. He’s not. Hux grits his teeth, sinking in slowly, one hand on Ren's hip, the other stroking his tail.  
  
The feeling of being swallowed, inch by inch, in clinging, squeezing heat, is incredible. He makes the mistake of looking down, sees his cock disappearing into Ren's gorgeous ass, that tail curving elegantly upwards, and nearly comes on the spot.

“Shit, I'm _really_ not going to last,” he moans, closing his eyes. He gets no respite though - Ren chooses that moment to swish his tail, brushing it across Hux's chest, fur unbearably erotic on his skin. He grabs it, lifting it up, giving himself another inch to slide in. Ren shudders.

“Oh fuck! Do that again!”

“What?”

“Pull it!” Hesitantly, Hux tugs on Ren's tail, and the man beneath him goes boneless, melting in submission.

“Feels good?”

“Yes! Weird-good, didn't-know-I-was-sensitive-there _good_.”  
  
Still experimenting, Hux rocks back, then thrusts in, pulling at the same time.

“Yes!” Ren barks, “That- keep doing that!” It's actually quite helpful, having to concentrate on the timing - it gives him something to focus on besides his own blinding pleasure.  
  
How many times has he fantasised about this? About the perfect combination of soft fur and eager, tight heat. And yet reality is infinitely better, because it's _Ren_ , squeezing around him, whimpering as he thrusts, gasping his name. He feels… special. Honoured. Ren apparently hasn't let anyone else have him like this, but he's letting Hux.  
  
And he's enjoying it. Ren's fingers claw at the sheets, rucking them up as he tries to anchor himself.

“Come on, harder!” he growls, pushing back against Hux. And Hux tries, he really does, but he was already teetering and on the next thrust his orgasm blindsides him, pouncing on him with no warning and he's coming, balls deep in Ren, cock pulsing, crying out a hoarse apology as his body unspools.

“Oh fuck, _fuck_! Ren! I couldn't hold it. You feel so _good_ …” He's clinging to Ren's waist, tail draped over his shoulder, hips stuttering with the aftershocks.

“I'm so sorry…” Ren twists round, reaching an arm back to pat him.

“You did your best, little fox.” Hux scowls at him, but only gets a grin in response. He absolutely cannot move, too blissed out, too embarrassed. It's a weird combination. Mercifully, Ren gives him a few moments to recover, before he shifts forward, sliding himself off of Hux's spent cock. He rolls over, catching Hux as he slumps forward. God, he's so _strong_ … Hux wants to curl up in his arms and fall asleep again.

“I've never made someone lose it that fast,” says Ren, rubbing Hux's shoulder.

“That's not a compliment.”

“Not for _you_ , obviously, but I'm pretty pleased.”  
  
Gradually, Hux recognises the rhythmic movement beneath him is Ren jerking himself off, and scrabbles for his arm, stilling him.

“Let me.” He shuffles down the bed, ignoring Ren's half-hearted protest, and shoves his legs apart, kneeling between them.

“Hux-” He closes his mouth over Ren's head, tongue swirling, launching into it full throttle. If they were doing blowjobs as foreplay, he'd warm his partner up with gentle licks and kisses, make them beg him for more, for tighter, harder, deeper - but Ren has been patient enough, he deserves to come.  
  
It's tricky to keep his jaw relaxed enough to fit Ren inside, and his lips tight enough to provide suction. Normally, he has to take little sneaky breaks, stroking Ren more fully while his mouth recovers, but he's setting himself a challenge - to make Ren explode before he has to do that.  
  
He tightens his hand around the base of Ren's impressive cock, stroking him in time with the bobbing of his head, pleased when Ren curses. Previous partners have called him methodical, but it's never been a _complaint_ \- Hux has his technique down to a fine art, knows how to use his skills efficiently to draw someone's orgasm from them.  
  
He softens his tongue as he slides up Ren's shaft, and then points it, circling the sensitive head before he sinks back down. Drool is slipping over his hand, over Ren's balls, adding to the wet patch of Hux's come. Doesn’t matter - he can change the sheets afterwards. It's worth it because-

“Hux!” Ren hisses, “Your tongue… Fuck!” Hux can't smile, with his mouth so full, but it's in his eyes.  
  
Glancing up at Ren's rapt face, he eases his other hand between the trembling legs, finding his hole, slack, dripping with lube and come, and pushes two fingers inside. Ren makes a 'ungh' noise, but doesn't object. He crooks his fingers, makes a practiced 'come here' motion, and suddenly Ren is arching up, almost choking him with his cock, swearing and fisting his hands in the bed sheets.  
  
His poor tail is pinned under him, the tip sticking out one side of his body, twitching frantically as Hux drives him closer. Hux wishes he could give it just a gentle tug - he'd love that to be the thing that topples Ren over the edge.

“Fuck!” Ren practically howls, reminding him to pay attention. Hux circles his prostate and his head at the same time, just to make him swear again. God, it's addicting, having Ren's quivering sprawl of muscle at the mercy of his tongue, his fingers.

“I'm gonna- I'm right there! Oh, fuck! Please, Hux, _please_!” He erupts like a geyser, flooding Hux's mouth with jets of thick, salty come, cock throbbing in his grip. Hux waits till he's mostly done before swallowing the mouthful and latching on again to collect the last few dribbles.

“Hux,” Ren croaks. “Stop.” He slides his mouth off with a wet pop. “You… fiend. Fucking come up here.” Ren doesn't have the coordination right now to actually grab him, or to do much really, so Hux rolls them out of the wet patch, settling them down on their sides, face to face.  
  
Ren's chest is heaving. Hux allows himself a quiet victory smile. He might not have delivered the pounding he was hoping to, but Ren seems plenty satisfied. When his eyes open, they're warm, unguarded.

“Little fox,” he murmurs the endearment, smile lopsided.

“Big bad wolf,” says Hux, trying it out. They both burst into giggles.

“I'm not getting my tail back, am I?” Hux realises he's ruffling it, where it's lying along Ren's thigh.

“No. It's mine now. Unless… Is it difficult to do this half-and-half thing?” Ren shrugs.

“Not really. I've had a lot of practice, remember. Wolf eyes and ears are much keener than human’s, so I use those a lot. That said, I imagine if I fell asleep like this, I'd revert one way or the other.”

“I'll let you know which,” says Hux, nearly yawning just at the mention of sleep.  
  
For a few minutes the only thing moving is Hux's hand on Ren's tail.

“Question,” Ren announces, suddenly, “When did you realise you were a furry?”

“Ren…” Hux groans into the man's chest.

“Hey, you quizzed _me_ about being a werewolf straight after sex. This is only fair.”

“Yeah, well, you're not embarrassed about being a werewolf...”

“Come on, I drew that picture nearly five years ago, and nobody jumps straight from self-discovery to commissioning art.” Urgh. He probably does owe Ren some kind of explanation, given how accommodating he's been.

“I think,” he says slowly, “I think I discovered it when I was at uni… This guy I had a debilitating crush on came to a party wearing cat ears, and I couldn't stop staring. They… they matched his hair." God it was cringeworthy.

“Did you get with him?” Ren interrupts.

“No, no - he was _very_ straight. But I consoled myself by googling 'cat ears', found some cute images, found some porn, found some of the terms for furry stuff, and that meant I could find even _more_ porn… It was a short, steep and slippery slope.”  
  
He's still got a whole bunch of his favourite pictures saved, on his phone, on his computer, in a discreet, tucked-away folder. Including a fair few of Ren's...

“Is the silver wolf your fursona?”

“I don't have a fursona. I like the aesthetics of furries and anthro stuff, but I've never really imagined _myself_ as one...” Although, if Ren _could_ turn him into a werewolf, he'd absolutely jump at the chance.

“Ever asked a partner to wear animal ears in bed?”

“Do you really think I would risk someone figuring this out? I created a throwaway email and paypal just to commission that picture. I'd never have told _you_ , if you hadn't guessed it yourself.”

“Are you really _that_ ashamed?”

“I have deep-seated trust issues,” says Hux, deadpan. He's self-aware enough to recognise that he does his level best not to depend on anyone, not for help, or for favours - or to keep secrets. Not even to do their own job, which Phasma has needled him about. Yeah, it makes him seem unapproachable, but it's too deep a habit to be broken now.  
  
Ren looks like he wants to try, though - like he wants to rescue Hux from the past that formed him, and Hux can't stand it. His eyes flit to Ren's wolf ears, unable to hold his stare.

“Hey,” he quips, “have you ever copped out of a fancy dress party and just gone as a werewolf?” Ren chuckles.

“Almost. Uncle Luke stopped me, pointed out how easily someone could yank my tail and realise it didn't come off. Spoilsport.” He tugs Hux closer, arm around his waist.

“What's the time?” asks Hux, realising he has no idea. Ren reaches over him, grabbing his phone and flicking the screen on.

“Nearly midday.”

“Bloody hell.”

“What do you want to do for the rest of the day? I know you mentioned round two but I'm gonna need a little longer to recover - I think you sucked me dry...”  
  
From the brightness seeping through the curtains, Hux can tell it's a glorious day.

“We could go for a walk, if you want, along the beach.” He motions for Ren to pass him the phone, checking the local weather. “Tide changes around 1pm, so we'd have the whole afternoon.”

“Sounds great. It'd be nice to see the scenery round here in the daytime.” Hux realises Ren's only really been out at night, in his wolf-form.

“Do you like walking?” asks Ren. Hux frowns at the innocuous question.

“Do I like it?”

“Yeah, would you put 'long walks on the beach' on your Tinder profile, for example?”

“I don't have a-”

“It's not a trick question, Hux. I'm trying to ask what do you do for fun, in your spare time. What are your hobbies?”

“Oh, I see…” says Hux, to buy himself some thinking time. He can feel himself getting defensive. People have called him boring before - siblings, colleagues, ex-boyfriends… Hux feels that it's more a question of not having much free time. Once he's done working, cooking, cleaning, exercising, there's not much day left.

“What about you?” he counters, still stalling. Ren's expression says he can tell.

“You already know mine. I like hunting and running, when I'm a wolf. When I'm human, I like drawing. And obviously watching TV is fun in either form.” He fixes Hux with a stare. “Your turn.”

“Okay. I like walking, puzzles – sudoku, crosswords, anagrams etc. - and yoga. That's it. That's how I relax and de-stress, so I guess they're my hobbies.” Hux is waiting for Ren to laugh.

“You do yoga?” he says instead, eyebrow raised. “Are you… flexible?” The word is _dripping_ with innuendo.

“I'm pretty good at downward dog.” A pause.

“I walked into that one.”

“Face first, yeah.” Hux is very flexible, actually - he's been doing yoga a long time. One of the few downsides of working from home is that he misses his usual evening class. He has a mat, he could run through some salutations and stretches here… but between Ren and Millicent, he probably wouldn't get through them unmolested.  
  
Ren lets the subject drop, kissing the little frown that's appeared between his eyebrows.

“So, this walk… Can we take a picnic?”  
  
***  
  
Hux ends up making eight cheese sandwiches (he knows Ren's appetite by now), and shoving them in his backpack along with a thermos of coffee, some apples, crisps and cake bars from Ren's stash, and the blanket from the sofa.  
  
They haven't even reached the fork in the path when Ren pipes up.

“Hux, can you hold my clothes? I am _dying_ to shift.” Hux silently points to a 'dogs must be kept on leads' sign. Ren bristles.

“Hell no. No way am I letting you put a collar on me.”

“Not one of your kinks?” Ren flips him off. “Then keep your clothes on,” shrugs Hux, climbing over the stile.

“But humans are so slow! I just wanna run!” Hux ignores his whining and carries on along the footpath.  
  
Ren can tell he's trying not to smile though - he bounds along beside him, eyes wide and hopeful, looking like… a puppy. Fuck. Finally, Hux relents.

“There's a beach further up the coast that allows dogs off-lead.”

“Then let's go there! Come on.” Ren grabs his hand and tugs Hux along, making him almost jog to keep up with his long strides.  
  
Hux can feel a huge, sappy grin splitting his face. He's not sure when he was last this… happy. Doing things _with_ someone is completely different to doing them on your own. Not an earth-shattering revelation, but an important one, for him.  
  
When they break off from the coastal path, taking a steep trail down to the dog-friendly beach, Ren starts looking for a secluded place to change.  
  
Hux has already run through the risk factors in his head, of course he has. Nice weather could be iffy, but it's a week day, and the school Easter break is over, so there shouldn't be _too_ many people - or dogs - down there. Ren goes to pull away, but Hux grips his hand.

“If I call you, come back, okay?” Ren makes a face. “I don't care that it's humiliating - if people think you're out of control they're more likely to notice you're a wolf, not a dog.” Ren must twig that he's genuinely worried about this, because his expression gentles.

“There's a penalty for misusing the emergency stop button,” he says.

“Is it buying you more chocolate?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”  
  
Ren shifts behind a bush, chucking his clothes and shoes to Hux, who somehow makes them fit in the backpack with everything else. Then he's following the wolf down to the beach.  
  
Ren stops, looking intrigued as his paws sink into the sand. Hux wonders if it feels as nice as sand under bare feet. He considers taking his own shoes off, but not all dog owners are meticulous about cleaning up after their pets. Ren glances at up him, and then he's off, powerful legs speeding across the beach. Hux follows at an amble, not willing to rush after him.  
  
He's so graceful. Watching him gallop, Hux can see why he loves running. Ren charges into the shallows, getting soaked by a wave immediately. It's way too cold for humans, but there are a few wetsuited surfers bobbing patiently out there, hoping for a decent wave. Ren doesn't go far enough to risk being swept away, he sticks to the shoreline, practically frolicking in the water.  
  
There's something uninhibited, unembarrassed about him that makes Hux feel a bit wistful. He keeps walking, on the firmer, drying sand where the tide has receded, nodding to other dog walkers as he passes them. This particular beach is nearly four miles long, so it's ideal for exercising energetic dogs. Or werewolves.  
  
Ren lopes back to him, pushing his damp head up under Hux's hand.

“I should have brought a tennis ball for you to chase,” he muses. A sharp growl rumbles from the wolf. “You don't have to fake like you don't enjoy doing dog stuff. I'm not judging.”  
  
Ren stops, and Hux does too, automatically. Too late, he recognises Ren's goal.

“Don't you dare-” Ren shakes himself, vigorously, showering Hux with droplets of seawater. Bastard. As he wipes his face, Ren takes off again, and Hux would swear he's laughing.  
  
None of the other dogs have bothered Ren - a few have given him a quick sniff, but left him alone when he doesn't engage.  
  
And then there's the Jack Russell. She's maybe five times smaller than Ren, but she's barking and yapping at his heels as he trots through the surf.  
  
Hux catches Rens eye as he looks around, suppressing his smirk. Ren could leave her behind in a flash if he ran, but she'd probably think it was a game and chase after him. Hux scans around, hoping the dog's owner will call her back. Nobody else is watching the two of them. For all that he's laughing at Ren's predicament, he's not sure how they get out of it. Clearly Ren can't communicate with dogs any better than he can wolves.  
  
Over the yapping and the waves crashing, he hears a deep, bloodchilling growl. Jesus. Ren's snarled at _him_ plenty of times, but nothing like this. His ears are flat back against his head, hackles rising. The yapping ceases for a moment, but then the Jack Russell seems to bounce back, jumping up at Ren's face despite his bared teeth.  
  
He barks at her, once, a display of fangs in a mouth that could bite her in half, and she yelps, tripping over herself to sprint away, little legs pumping like mad. Ren watches her go, tossing his head, as though to shake off his frustration.

“Oi!” yells a voice behind him. Hux's heart sinks. He knows that tone, knows he's about to have an argument. Sure enough, approaching him is a red-faced man, cradling a shaking armful of Jack Russell. “What the hell are you doing, bringing that untrained bully of a dog on this beach! If you can't control him, keep him on a lead.” Hux frowns.

“Kylo is perfectly well trained and well behaved, thank you.”

“Bullshit, he terrified my little Sasha, and she was just trying to play with him. He's vicious!” Hux raises an eyebrow. He doesn't know a lot about dogs, but that is not an insult to throw around lightly.

“Vicious? Kylo isn't vicious, not to humans and not to other animals. He just doesn't play. Not all dogs do. If yours is going to harass every one she meets, she's going to get rebuffed sooner or later.” Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Ren's ears are pricked up, he's definitely listening. Silently, Hux prays he won't come over. The last thing he needs is for this odious man to get a good look at him.

“Kylo warned her off,” he carries on, “I heard him growling, but she kept pestering him.”

“He snapped at her! A big brute like that could have-”

“Is she injured?” demands Hux, interrupting him before his tirade can continue.

“Luckily for you she's not! If she had-”

“Sir,” Hux puts as much immovable ice in his voice as possible, the kind he uses when he has to force clients to understand that yes, what they want is illegal, and no, he will not set it up for them. “It would have been prudent to call her away when you noticed her bothering my dog, rather than waiting until he snapped at her. Or did you _not_ notice?”  
  
He knows full well the man was looking at his phone - he'd discarded him as a potential owner because of it. The man stumbles a bit.

“She was just playing,” he repeats.

“I'm sure she was, but I think it would be best if she didn't try to play with Kylo. I trust you have enough control over her to ensure that. Otherwise of course, you could always keep her on a lead.” The man’s face grows redder.

“Listen, you poncey-” Hux walks away. He can practically feel hateful eyes boring holes in his back, but the man doesn't follow him. Ren gives him a long, baleful look, before loping off, keeping parallel to Hux.  
  
They've gone another mile or so, with Ren running ahead, zigzagging from the surf to the debris around the high tide mark, to the rocks and boulders that make up the base of the cliff. He comes up beside Hux and nudges him, getting Hux to follow him inland, into the dry sand of an alcove between rocky protrusions, sheltered from the wind.

“Picnic?” Ren nods. Well, the sooner they eat, the less time he has to carry their food. Dumping his backpack down, Hux pulls out the blanket and spreads it on the sand, finding stones to weigh down the corners. He's just retrieving the thermos flask when the wolf standing on the rug suddenly becomes a man.

“Gah!” he starts, toppling over. Ren flops down next to him, laughing, and Hux frantically digs out his boxers, thrusting them at him. “Put these on before someone sees you.”

“There's no one around, I checked”. He pulls them on anyway, along with his jeans and jumper - even Devon only gets a few scattered days when it's warm enough to be naked outside, and this is not one of them.  
  
Hux tosses him a packet of crisps, but Ren throws them straight back, making Hux fumble.

“No one's ever stood up for me like that,” he says quietly.

“Huh? You mean the gammon-faced man and his dumbass terrier?” Ren nods, gesturing for Hux to leave the backpack. He pulls the confused Hux down until he's lying on the blanket, and slides a deliberate hand down towards his crotch.

“I want to show you my gratitude,” he purrs. Hux's voice catches on 'it was nothing', because that's the moment Ren starts unbuttoning his trousers.

“We're in public,” he hisses. Ren's smile could be described as 'wolfish'.

“Don't worry, this won't take long.” Hux is torn. He _should_ bat Ren's hand away, and tell him to eat the damn picnic and save this for when they get home. But he _wants_ find out how good whatever Ren's planning will feel.  
  
While he's hesitating, Ren gets his fly open and eases his soft cock out through the gap, fondling it as it starts to chub up. Hux glances towards the beach. There's only a narrow window where they'd be visible, if someone happened to look this way…

“Stop thinking, Hux,” he murmurs, squeezing a little. “If you keep quiet, nobody will notice us.” His shit-eating grin tells Hux he's aiming to make that as difficult as possible.

“Fine. Fine. Do your worst.” Ren kisses his nose.

“Close your eyes,” he orders. Hux rolls them first, but he does obey. Ren kisses his eyelids too, and then Hux feels him shuffle further down, hand stroking his now-rigid erection.  
  
He's sort of expecting the wet stripe that Ren licks, from base to tip, but he still jolts. Ren does it again, swirling his tongue around the head when he reaches it. And through the growing haze of pleasure, that tongue seems to be maybe a little too long, too rough, and _wonderfully_ flexible as it laps at him…

“Ren,” he pants, “are you using your wolf tongue on me?” There's a muted chuckle.

“Don't look, just feel,” he says thickly. God, it's weird, the way it wraps further around his length than a human tongue could reach. The gentle rasping probably shouldn't feel this good, but it really fucking does. Hux's hips are bucking uselessly, desperate for more pressure, more friction than the luxurious licking is giving him, but Ren's leaning his weight on him, keeping him pinned down in the sand.

“Can I touch you?” he pleads. Ren hums, and Hux hopes that's a yes because he's already winding his hands into Ren's hair, still damp from the sea. He's a little disappointed to not to feel furry ears.  
  
Ren was right - this isn't going to take long. The sensation of a long, eager tongue slurping his cock like it's a fucking ice lolly is maddeningly pleasurable.

“Oh, Ren!” he gasps, as Ren goes further down, tongue laving over his balls, jiggling them, the movement making them pull up tight. His unattended cock bobs, the wetness of Ren's saliva turning chill in the open air, making him shiver.

“I need- I need…” he begs. Ren makes a shushing noise, and Hux swallows the rest of that sentence, trying to keep quiet. He wants to scream. The lack of friction is driving him crazy, and he's humping upwards, trying to get Ren to take him into his mouth and suck him. He realises, dimly, that Ren has no intention of doing that, that he's going to keep Hux here, using just his tongue, until he spills.

“Next time,” he pants, voice barely a whisper, “next time, when we're naked and in private and I don't have to fucking bite off every moan, you are going to use that magical tongue _everywhere_ \- my neck, my nipples, my ass…” Fuck, the thought of Ren pushing that tongue deep in his hole, licking inside him… Maybe Ren has the same idea, because a muffled, needy growl emanates from him.

“I want you to kiss me with it, see how far you can shove it down my throat, see if you can make me choke on it.” Ren whimpers, tongue pressing a fraction harder.

“Yessss,” Hux groans, “that's _perfect_ , good boy…” Ren freezes, and Hux's stomach drops, realising what he's said. “Shit! Sorry, sorry - I didn't mean it like that! Please don't stop, Ren, please...”  
  
After a tortuous moment, Ren huffs and starts licking again, slowly, his tongue twirling around Hux's cock, lapping at him, dragging softly along the whole length. Hux tugs at Ren's hair, not even meaning to, just unable to stop his hands gripping, needing something to hold onto as Ren sweeps all coherent thought away.  
  
He bites his lip, balls pulling tight again, and he's close, he's so _close_ , pleasure cresting in a glorious wave- and then it passes, rolling onward, not quite enough to push him over the edge.

“You fucker, you know exactly what you're doing to me! Don't drag it out, don't torture me like this - you _promised!_ ” Ren teases his head with delicate little licks, and Hux is shaking, body straining for a release he can't reach.

“I said I was sorry!” Ren prises a hand from his hair, threading their fingers together so Hux has something to squeeze, as the urgency rebuilds. He's not teasing now, working Hux over earnestly, diligently, tongue leaving no part of his aching cock unattended. Oh, if Ren would just give him a little more friction, _any_ more friction…  
  
Desperation is undoing him and winding him tighter at the same time. It's awful, it's wonderful, it's _there_ , shit, right _there_ \- He feels himself falling, pleasure rushing up to meet him, fast and unstoppable.

“Ren!” he gasps, trying to warn him. The man gets his mouth over the head of Hux's cock just in time, swallowing his load before he can make a mess. Hux's eyes are wide, staring unseeing at the clouds above them, shudders racking his body as his cock continues pulsing, Ren lapping up the last of his come.  
  
From a great distance, he feels Ren tucking him back into his underwear, refastening his jeans.

“Earth to Hux?” he calls, waving a hand over his face. “Still with me?”

“Hux is not here right now. Leave a message.” Ren doesn't even miss a beat.

“Hi, Hux, it's Ren - just letting you know that you've got like ten minutes tops before I've devoured all the sandwiches. Anyway, get back to me when you can, bye!” Hux grabs his arm as he reaches over for the backpack. “Oh, you _do_ want sandwiches?”  
  
Hux sits up, body still leaden, and Ren puts a slightly squashed cheese sandwich in his hand, watching as he munches it.

“What?” he mumbles.

“I should have known better than to leave your mouth unoccupied.” Hux flushes, swallowing quickly.

“It's all gibberish.”

“It's filthy, erotic gibberish that gets me hotter than the sun.” Hux only notices he's pitching a tent when he squirms, adjusting himself.

“Do you want a hand with that?” asks Hux, but he can't help glancing around, wary of onlookers. Ren tilts his head.

“I'll be fine. Maybe tonight we can try a few of the things you so helpfully suggested...”

“You're spoiling me.”

“Yeah, and it's only your day off - think what I'd do if it was your birthday.” He pauses. “When _is_ your birthday?”

“Not till September. You?”

“December 3rd. Wait,” he groans, “you're actually going to remember that, aren't you? You have that kind of brain…” Hux gives him an enigmatic smile. Of course he is. He couldn't forget a single detail about Ren if he tried.  
  
The backpack is significantly lighter, as they stroll along the beach, fading sun warm despite the breeze. Ren sticks to the high tide line, probably not wanting to get wet again, nosing at washed up shells and bits of plastic.  
  
He shifts back behind the same bush, grumbling about the inconveniences of clothing and modesty as he ties his shoes. When the path gets wide enough, Hux finds his hand, and Ren falls into step with him.

“I guess this is one advantage of being human,” he says grudgingly, thumb rubbing over Hux's knuckles. Hux looks at his profile.

“Why are you so on edge about the whole dog thing?” he asks, deciding to take the plunge. “Meaning no offence, but you seem to spend a lot of time in your wolf form, for someone who dislikes being taken for a dog.” Ren is quiet for a very long time, expression clouded, before he sighs.

“I lied when I said Rey was the only wolf I knew, outside my family.”

“There's another?” He's not looking at Hux.

“When I was a teenager, I… had a lot of pent up rage. I think it was related to spending too much time as a human. But opinions differ. I got aggressive, I would lash out. Dropped out of uni partly because I couldn't control my temper.

And then I met a man. Snoke. I say a _man_ \- he was a werewolf too. He told me exactly what I wanted to hear - that I was struggling because I was trying to suppress part of myself, that I'd be more powerful if I embraced my anger and my wolf nature. It worked, for a while - I felt stronger, better, less conflicted.

He convinced me to basically work as an enforcer, for his racket. I think he liked the visuals of having a huge, black wolf at his command. He let me chase down anybody who'd 'wronged' him - refused to pay protection, moved in on his turf, things like that. I… I maimed a lot of people.”  
  
His fingers have loosened on Hux's, as if expecting him to pull away in disgust. Hux squeezes his hand instead.

“What happened?”

“Rey saved me. Snoke found her, tried to recruit her too, but she wouldn't be deceived. She was an orphan, she grew up hiding her wolf side, dealing with it all on her own - she had every reason to fall in with Snoke and the promises he was making. But she didn't.” Suddenly it makes sense, why Ren speaks of her with so much awe and respect.

“Eventually, she made me see what he was doing to me. We teamed up, and…” He trails off.

“And?”

“We killed him. Tore him apart.” He looks at Hux, resigned, waiting for him to balk.

“Good.” Ren blinks.

“What?”

“Well, I only managed to report him for money laundering - your solution was far more permanent.”

“Wait, wait, wait - you _knew_ Snoke?”

“Knew is a strong word. I was his accountant for a few years, at my previous firm, but I only met him in person once - which is a huge money laundering red flag, incidentally. I got gradually more and more suspicious, and once I had enough evidence, I turned him in.” Ren is staring at him, gobsmacked, so he carries on.

“Shortly after that, I left the firm - they weren't happy with me rocking a lucrative boat. I managed to jump just before I was pushed.”

“That's when you moved here?” Hux nods. His current position had been an absolute godsend - a more senior role in a smaller, friendlier firm, far away from London, and close enough to look after his then-ailing grandma.

“I… I can't believe you understand,” Ren whispers. It's so painfully obvious, the shame that hangs over him from this period of his life. Hux wonders how much he saw of Snoke's operation. It sounds like the twisted, sneering crone may have kept his pet wolf mostly in the dark.

“In addition to several other unpleasant things, Snoke was a slave trader, a trafficker. He specialised in exploiting vulnerable people, and I think that includes you.”

“There's no excuse for what I did.” Hux shrugs.

“No, but there's also nothing you can do about it now. You stopped it, you stopped _him_. That will have to be enough.” Ren considers this.

“Well,” he says eventually, “at least my grandfather would have approved. He hated slavers.” His smile is very thin. “How are you so wise, Hux?”

“Because that's what I tell myself about it. I should have had the courage to act on my suspicions sooner. I might have prevented some ruined lives, maybe some deaths. But late is better than never.” Ren nods. He's frowning, like there's more he wants to confess to.

“Tell me,” prompts Hux.

“It's weird. Most of the time, I'm fine, I don't even think about it. But… then some little thing will remind me of how he used to treat me, how I used to behave, and I _hate_ it. Stuff like 'sit' or 'stay'… or 'good boy'.”

“Sorry.” Ren waves the apology off.

“You can still make your jokes, I kinda like how lightly you treat me. It… helps, I think.” He sighs. “Sometimes I feel guilty for still enjoying being a wolf, after everything. I was a monster.”

“You aren't now,” says Hux quietly. “I'm sorry you went through all that.”  
  
He wants to say something else, something better. He's a poor substitute for the therapy Ren probably needs, but you can't talk to a therapist about murder. Or about being a werewolf, though for different reasons.

“I'm glad you made it out okay.”

“Did I? I've barely held down a job since then, barely seen my family. I mean, three weeks ago, I just ran away – again.”

“Ren,” Hux stops, pulling Ren round to face him. “You don't have to judge yourself by anyone else's standards. All you have to do is find something, some _life_ , that works for you. It's okay if it's not what people want or expect, and it's okay if it takes a while to find.” He's repeating what his grandma told him, when he came out to her, age twelve. The words always stuck with him.  
  
Ren doesn't say anything, just looks at him, gaze serious.

“I found you.”

“Actually, _I_ found you, if you recall,” says Hux. Ren breaks into a relieved grin, and then he's kissing him, pulling Hux against his warm, solid body, holding him like he's the most precious thing in the world.  
  
* * *  
  
He doesn't say anything to Ren, but the encounter with the detestable man on the beach has put Hux on edge. He's uncomfortably aware that if someone were to report seeing a wolf, to the police or the RSPCA or something, it would incite scrutiny that they'd rather avoid. He wants Ren to be _safe_ here, he wants to protect him.  
  
He's thinking about this while he's brushing Millicent, the task meditative enough to let his mind wander. She's short-haired, but even so, as the weather warms, she molts a lot, and if he doesn't want the entire house coating in ginger cat hair, he has to give her a thorough brushing every other day. At least she doesn't object _as_ violently, since he acquired a rubber-toothed glove, meant to collect loose fur - it's close enough to being stroked that she'll tolerate it. Usually.  
  
A small movement draws his eye, and he catches Ren watching him, expression curious.

“You want in on this?” he asks. Predictably, Ren scoffs, returning his attention to whatever he's drawing.  
  
* * *  
  
But a couple of hours later, as Hux is about to go make a cup of tea, Ren stalks in and mutely drops the glove in his lap.

“Don't say anything,” he warns. “ _Don't_ ”. While Hux is laughing, he peels his clothes off and shifts, nosing at Hux until he kneels down on the floor.

“Come on, it's easier to vacuum the carpet afterwards than the sofa.” Ren stands very still, apprehension obvious.  
  
Has he been brushed before? Maybe not. Gesturing for him to come closer - this isn't going to work unless he's within arm's reach - Hux puts the glove on, slowly lifting his hand, telegraphing that he's about to touch Ren's back. That's the least sensitive area, so probably the best place to start.  
  
He runs his hand down the length of Ren's spine, stopping before his tail, combing through the fur gently. He repeats the motion a few more times, and Ren's stance starts to relax. There's a _lot_ of fur coming out.

“You're shedding your undercoat, aren't you? I knew wolves molted, but I wasn't sure whether it was one of those things that translates between forms - like, when you brush your hair that takes care of your whole coat or something.” The rubber bristles of the glove are already getting full, so Hux peels the accumulated fluff off, leaving it in a handful on the carpet.

“I'm guessing you've been pretty uncomfortable, carrying all this extra insulation.” Ren licks his face as he leans round to work through his ruff, which might be a yes, or it might be a plea for him to stop talking.

“This bit'll be easier if you sit…” he suggests, and Ren does, giving Hux better access to his neck and front.  
  
Now he's looking closely, Hux can see the scars on Ren's skin. The fur hides most of them, except the big one on his face. It occurs to him that they probably weren't from a motorbike crash. How had Ren phrased it? 'Anything fighting for its life is dangerous.' Humans included.  
  
Mentally halting that particular train of thought, Hux picks up one of Ren's paws, then the other, running the glove down his forelegs. His claws are fairly blunt, either from running so much, or from trimming his fingernails. Not sure which way round that works.

“Do you ever get fleas?” Ren gives him a baleful look. “I'm just asking! I found a really good flea treatment for Millicent, if you ever need it. I just dab a spot at the back of her neck and-” Ren's snarling. Hux shuts up, trying not to laugh. He cleans the glove off again, adding to the pile of downy hair.

“Gonna do your tail now, okay?” Ren nods, standing back up. Hux wishes Millicent was this helpful when he's trying to brush her... He does the tail in short bursts, trying not to pull. Also trying not to inappropriately enjoy this. A large part of him would love to be naked, splayed out right here with Ren lying on top of him, fur against his bare skin as he runs his fingers through it.  
  
He clamps down on those thoughts too, because this is _not_ a sex thing, that's _not_ what's going on here. He prays his cock gets the message. He still doesn't quite dare ask Ren for... 'wolf stuff' in bed, until he's offered, at least. Practically, that does make sense - Ren knows how his own body works, after all.  
  
Ren twitches a little as he goes over his hind legs - he's probably less used to them being touched than his front ones - but then rolls over, legs akimbo, clearly indicating Hux should do his belly next.

“Hang on, hang on,” Hux mutters, pulling another big handful of fur off the glove. He sweeps along Ren's side, working inwards, until abruptly the bristles catch, tugging hard at something and Ren yelps.

“Sorry, sorry! You've got a knot, just let me try to untangle it.” He should have guessed the stomach area might be matted. Millicent sometimes gets burrs and mud stuck to her there, just from being low slung amongst tall grass. Ren whines as Hux picks the knot apart.

“Oh, don't be so dramatic. I can cut it out, if you'd rather?” He goes quiet. “Yeah, thought so.”  
  
Hux finally manages to run the glove through the area without it pulling, doing Ren's other side more carefully. He skirts around Ren's sheathed penis, like he's been avoiding it with his eyes. From the look Ren's giving him, he's absolutely aware of this. Hux's brain chimes in with a reminder that Ren uses himself as an anatomical model for his furry art.

“Okay,” says Hux, briskly pulling the last layer of collected fur off the glove. “I think that's all of you done. Anywhere I've missed?” Ren switches back, head now in Hux's lap, grinning up at him.

“No, you were very… thorough,” he says, winking. “I appreciate it. I can't tell you how much cooler that feels, already.” Hux surveys the piles of discarded fluff surrounding them.

“No wonder.” Ren stretches, suppressing a yawn.

“I'd forgotten how soothing it is. I haven't been brushed since I was a kid - our butler used to, if I was going through a phase where I wouldn't change back to human.”

“Wait, _butler_? You had a butler?”

“Yeah. _I'm_ broke, but my family is rich as fuck. My mum's the heiress of a big country estate - that's where I learned to hunt. They've been paying my rent and bills, while I don't have much of an income.” Well, that explained why he wasn't overly worried about walking out on the houseshare.  
  
Hux thinks about the timeline. Given Ren's family adopted Rey, they must know something about what happened with Snoke - though undoubtedly not all of it - so they're probably more than happy to throw money at keeping Ren off a similar path. Hux almost wants to laugh, imagining what _his_ father would say, if he ever needed a monetary favour.

“They aren't going to cut you off or anything?”

“Nah, not unless I do something monumentally stupid, like reveal that I'm a werewolf.” Hux stares down at him, and then points to himself. “You don't count. You're not going to tell anyone. Plus, you don't have proof.”

“Ah, so if I took a video of you shifting and put it on Twitter?”

“That would be _very_ bad, for both of us.” There's enough undercurrent to his words that Hux knows he's not joking. He can't resist poking it though.

“So getting nudes of you with your ears and tail, that's unlikely to happen?” Ren's eyes sparkle.

“My commissions are open. I could draw you a wolfman who looks suspiciously like me… in any pose you want…”

“Including, say, hammering a pasty ginger man over the back of his sofa?” Ren rolls over, so he can see Hux the right way up.

“Well, it would cost more if you wanted _two_ figures.”

“I can afford it.” 

“And of course, I pride myself on my distinctive realistic style, so it would be useful to draw inspiration from real life...”

“I can help with that too.”


	3. Okay yes please

“HUX!!”  
  
Ren sounds _furious_. Alarmed, Hux pushes his chair back and dives downstairs. Ren's standing in the kitchen, tense as a bowstring, his shoulders shaking with the effort to keep still.

“What the hell is this?!” He's holding a piece of paper, and the collar that Hux ordered online. That's his insurance company's logo on the discarded envelope on the counter, so apparently both things arrived in the post today. Hux grins.

“You don't like it?”

“No, I don't fucking like it!” He was expecting Ren to be annoyed, but not this angry… “You got me a _collar_!”

“It was just meant to be a joke - I mean, it's pink and sparkly!”

“You think I'm a fucking _pet_!” Ren growls. The letter gets crumpled up as his fists clench. Oh. Hux hadn't considered that Ren might interpret it that way. He tries to explain.

“I don't, Ren - of course I don't! But if you want to run around in your wolf form, I thought it might be prudent to _have_ one to help deflect attention. So if someone asks why you're not wearing a collar - which dogs are legally required to wear, by the way - I can say, 'oh, sorry, I just forgot to put it on'.” Ren's face has naked hatred written all over it.

“So it's _not_ just a joke, then, is it?” he sneers. “What next? Getting me microchipped? Dogs have to be microchipped too.”

“As long as no one takes you to a vet, they won't check for a microchip,” Hux grits out.

“Well, good thing you also got _pet insurance_ , y'know, to cover vets' bills. I can't believe you've even _thought_ about this.”

“I'm trying to keep you safe!”

“Bullshit. You want to feel like you own me. I've seen your lockscreen - your two pets all curled up together, isn't it adorable?” Hux flushes.

“That's not...” He should be staying calm, but his own hackles are rising. “Your expectations are too high. You want to spend fifty percent of your time as a wolf, but be treated as a human _all_ the time? That's not realistic!"

“You make me feel like a pet even when I’m human – don’t I already have to beg you for treats?” Hux’s mouth drops open.

“That’s low, Ren. As if you having no money is _my_ fault!” He’s never considered there to be a power imbalance between them. Whoever has more money pays for more things, that’s just common sense to him. “You can’t throw that in my face _now_! You should have said if it was bugging you.”

“Oh? Going to magically fix that too, are you?” His voice is laden with bitterness.

“Fuck you, Ren. I'm trying my best here, but I'm going to slip up occasionally.”

“And what? Order me to heel? You fucking know how I feel about being treated like a dog. You _know_. I told you everything.”

“I wouldn't do it deliberately, you ass!”

“You just did!” Ren brandishes the collar at him.

“I was trying to help, trying to make sure you _can_ be a wolf whenever you want.”

“I don't need your help,” Ren hisses, “I don't need _you_.” Hux's mouth flattens.

“You did once.” In the silence that follows, Hux is absolutely certain Ren is going to maul him. He even takes a faltering step back, just on instinct.  
  
But then Ren drops the paper and the collar, and stalks out the back door. Hux sees him push through the gap in the hedge, and then he's gone.  
  
Fine. The colossal idiot could cool off until he saw sense. It's perfectly obvious that Hux didn't mean for him to _wear_ the bloody collar. It has a little heart-shaped tag that says 'muppet' on it, for heaven's sake. Though to be fair, Ren's never deserved the term more...  
  
Hux spends the rest of the day in a funk of righteous indignation.  
  
That evening, when he goes out to water the pot plants, curiosity makes him squeeze through the hedge himself.  
  
On the ground beyond it are two shoes, a pair of jeans, and a shredded t-shirt.  
  
* * *  
  
He assumes Ren will reappear overnight, probably flop onto his bed as usual and they'll pretend that explosive argument hadn’t happened. But he doesn't.  
  
He doesn't come back the day after, either.  
  
The house feels very big without him. Odd. It never used to, before. It had seemed a perfect fit for him and Millicent, but now… now there's too much empty space where Ren isn't.  
  
By the fourth day, he's basically accepted that Ren's left. The horrible, spiteful part of his mind is crowing that he _knew_ something this good wouldn't last. That he knew he'd screw it up.  
  
He's come up with a dozen things he should have said, should have _not_ said, better ways he should have handled the situation. And none of it matters, because Ren's not here to listen. The futility makes him shake.  
  
He feels hollow. Like an unmoored boat, drifting aimlessly on the empty water, no way to steer, nowhere to steer to. It might be the most poetic thought Hux has ever had.  
  
Phasma notices. She guesses Kylo's gone, but to her eternal credit refrains from suggesting he get another dog. Even _Millicent_ notices, coming to him more often for scritches and cuddles, even though he sometimes ends up sobbing into her fur.  
  
He makes himself tidy up Ren's things. He'd chucked the collar already, unable to stand the sight of it. The toothbrush goes in the bin as well. He takes the snacks in to work, leaves them in the staff kitchen. Puts the clothes and Ren's single pair of shoes in a box, slides it back under the bed. Out of sight, out of mind. Clearing up has always been a reliable way to organise an ex out of his thoughts. He stops.  
  
An ex.  
  
Is that all Ren is, now?  
  
Something inside him is screaming. He doesn't want it to end like this. Maybe it already has. But maybe, _maybe_ , if he can find Ren, if he can talk to him, if he can apologise...  
  
As he's about the shred the insurance letter, he realises it's got his full name on the address. _Mr Armitage Hux_. He sits down, clutching the crumpled paper. He doesn't even know Ren's real name - former name, family name, whatever. How do you contact a man without a name? He tries to frame it like a puzzle, because his brain relishes puzzles.  
  
And because puzzles are always solvable, not matter how cryptic.

“Okay,” he mutters, blowing his nose and trying to feel determined, “Easy stuff first.”  
  
Ren doesn't have a phone. Or rather, he probably _does_ , but it's with the rest of his stuff, wherever he was living. He never gave Hux the number.  
  
Hux has an email address, though. He tries a dozen times to compose what he wants to say, twisting his own words round to their worst possible inference, deleting and retyping until the only thing he ends up sending is, "I'm so sorry".  
  
He scours the tablet, wondering if he can access Ren's social media, maybe uncover another means of contacting him - or enough information to figure out where he might have gone. But Ren was smart enough not to leave anything logged in.  
  
From the outside, all he can do is follow Ren's artist accounts, the few he can find. He sets up notifications so he'll know if anything new gets posted. His logic is that if there's an update, that'll mean Ren has access to the internet again, and therefore that he's ignoring Hux's email. At the moment, his silence might mean he hasn't seen it. He might still be a wolf…  
  
Hux tries to create a news alert for sightings of large dogs or wolves, unable to repress a creeping fear that Ren could have been injured, or even killed. But that sort of thing would be local news at best, and he has no way to narrow down which region to try. The man didn't even have a distinctive accent.  
  
He'd said his mother owns a large estate, though, that they're filthy rich. And the British press loves stories about landed gentry - there're whole magazines dedicated to them… So maybe he can figure out who Ren's _parents_ are?  
  
An entire day of fruitless googling later, he is forced to conclude that no, he can't. He has too few data points to work from. He doesn't spot Ren's face in any photos of parties and fundraisers, doesn't find any mention of an only child fitting Ren’s description. Frankly, he isn't quite sure what he planned to do, if he _did_ locate Ren's family. March up and tell them he was being ghosted by their werewolf son?  
  
As a last resort, he looks up Snoke, finally discovers how the whole ugly operation crumbled, after his death. A couple of articles mention a ferocious dog, as does the transcript of a court case that he digs up, but it's another dead end.  
  
* * *  
  
The hope that he'll be able to find Ren fades a little more every day. But another hope persists, equally painful, equally improbable. Maybe Ren will just… reappear. Maybe one day Hux will be in the garden and he'll turn around and Ren will _be there_ , wearing his infuriating grin, just like he was the second time they met.  
  
He leaves the spare key under the fuchsia pot. He shouldn't, but he's hung up on the idea that Ren might take it as a sign that Hux didn't want him. Assuming he ever comes back. Which he won't.  
  
* * *  
  
One night, as he's staring at his phone, wishing he would stop and go to sleep, he hears a howl. It's faint - far away - and gone before he can get much sense of which direction it came from. But he's already pulling his jacket on backwards, already forgetting to lock the door behind him as he runs out into the field, onto the footpath.  
  
When he reaches the fork, his heart is hammering, and he wishes his unfit lungs would wheeze quieter as he listens for the howl, praying it will come again.  
  
There's nothing. He's done this half a dozen times over the last two months, following phantom howls out into the dark. This could be the same, just his mind playing tricks, but he's going to try anyway.  
  
Inland, or along the coast? Or the beach? He's out now, he might as well pick one. It's stupid to go down on the beach at night. But the tide is going out - he remembers seeing the times in the paper - so he's not likely to get trapped. And to be honest, there's something appealing about the risk - the idiocy of it suits his fatalistic mood.  
  
He heads along the coastal path, taking the first offshoot down the cliffs. It's not a clear night, and he nearly loses his footing a couple of times as he picks his way down.  
  
The beaches closer to towns and campgrounds get their share of illegal bonfires or barbecues at night, especially over the summer, but this one is a bit too remote. There are no dancing orange flickers on the shore, and no pale pinpricks of ship lights on the horizon. It's… eerie, with the bluffs and rocks looming out of the dark, and the matte black ocean rumbling incessantly.  
  
It feels like… he searches for a comparison and comes up blank. It feels like somewhere forgotten, abandoned by time and people. _He_ feels very small. He wonders if it was the same for Ren, when he went running. Maybe not. Wolves belong to the night, far more than humans do.  
  
He looks down as he stumbles over a piece of driftwood. And freezes. There are pawprints in the sand. Big ones.  
  
Hux tries to squash down the hope bubbling up inside him, telling himself any large dog could have left them. They have to be recent, though - the tide washed the beach clean only a couple of hours ago, and there aren't any other footprints, apart from his…  
  
He follows the tracks, heart pounding in his throat, legs weak and uncooperative. This is going to hurt so much, when it becomes nothing. He knows this. He knows he's setting himself up for a fall. But he already fell for Ren, hard and fast and brutally far. What's another fall, after that?  
  
There's a brief moment when the clouds part, and in the distance, where the moonlight catches the wet sand, there's a huge, dark shape. It's too far away for him to be sure, but he is anyway.

“Ren!” he tries to yell, but it comes out as barely a croak. He swallows, stumbling forward, tries again.

“Ren!” He has to hear him, he _has_ to.

“Ren!!” The shape's head swings round, looking straight at him. And then it moves, legs bunching, launching itself into a run. For a heart-stopping moment, Hux thinks it's running away, his poor night-vision betraying him, but the shape gets bigger, resolves itself into a wolf with black fur and pale amber eyes.  
  
Ren leaps at him, and although he's braced for it, the wolf's bulk and momentum send them toppling over. Hux's clothes are immediately soaked, and they're both covered in sand. Ren's licking his face, nuzzling at him, frantic. Hux just buries his hands in Ren's mane and clings on, holding the wolf as close as he can. He might be crying, he's not sure, but he's definitely gasping Ren's name like it's the only word left in his vocabulary.  
  
“I'm so sorry,” he manages, once he's found some others. “I was an insensitive idiot. I shouldn't have bought that stupid collar. It was too far for a joke, and it _well_ exceeded any authority I had to 'help' you.” Ren is staring down at him, but he can't read the expression on his wolf-face. He needs to get this said, needs to make sure he's apologised properly, in case Ren doesn't give him another opportunity.

“I could have _asked_ , instead of just doing it,” Hux mumbles. “I could have discussed it with you, but that didn't even occur to me. I was so convinced I was right, that I knew best, that it was an excellent idea - despite the fact that you've been a werewolf literally your entire life, and I'd known about them for all of three weeks.” He sighs. It's horrible, dredging up his shame and presenting it to Ren. He's not used to being in the wrong.  
  
And Ren isn’t saying anything. He hasn't even shifted back. Maybe he doesn't want to talk, doesn't want to forgive Hux. Maybe he'll leave again once Hux lets go... Has he missed something?

“I don't think of you as a pet,” he adds. “I'm not sure I can prove that, but I promise I won't treat you like one, if you'll give me another chance, if you'll help me...” His hand is trembling as he strokes Ren's fur.

“Will you tell me how to make amends?” Ren shakes his head, nuzzling at Hux again. Hux feels despair clawing at his battered heart, making his breath hitch. There was always the possibility it would go this way, that he'd be lucky enough to find Ren, but not lucky enough to win him back.  
  
Ren tilts his face up, nose pointing to the sky. Hux follows the gesture…  
  
Oh. Of course.  
  
“I forgot it was a full moon. You can't change right now.” Ren gives him a look that says 'finally got there, didn't you?' Hux laughs weakly. “Well, you'll just have to listen to me babble, then.” The wolf licks his cheek, just a tiny flick of his tongue, and Hux swallows.

“I love you.”  
  
Wait. Did he just say that? Ren's eyes are wide.  
  
“I love you, you jerk. I felt so helpless, trapped here. I couldn't _find_ you - I tried everything, I just… I had to talk to you.” He's aware he sounds pathetic, but if there was ever a time to lay his heart on the line, it's now.

“I missed you so much.” Ren whimpers, leaning down and butting him with his head. Hux wraps his arms around him, squeezing, wanting to make sure Ren can't possibly doubt what he's saying.  
  
For a long time, they lie there, neither wanting to disturb the moment of peace, of relief. Ren’s heartbeat is fast and sure against his.  
  
Finally, Ren huffs, giving his cheek another lick for good measure. He climbs off of Hux, so he can stand up, wincing at the chill from his damp clothes. Ren takes a couple of steps down the beach, the way that Hux came from, and then stops, looking back and whining softly, waiting for Hux to get himself in gear and follow him.  
  
He ambles beside Hux the whole way home, always close enough to touch.  
  
It still feels a bit unreal, as Hux opens the kitchen door, watches Ren trot inside, wiping his paws on the mat. From the armchair, Millicent opens one eye and gives a huge yawn, utterly unbothered by the wolf's reappearance. Hux locks the door, takes his shoes off and follows him upstairs. Ren has paused on the landing.

“Go ahead,” he says, pushing the bedroom door open. “I think I need a shower - I can't sleep this grimy.” Ren nudges past him into the bathroom, and jumps into the bath with a skitter of claws. He shook off the majority of the sand outside, but there's still a fair bit clinging to his coat.  
  
Hux strips his gritty clothes off, deciding for once to leave dealing with them until tomorrow, and dumps them in a heap. He angles the shower head away from them, until the spray warms up, and then carefully starts rinsing Ren off, carding through his fur to dislodge the remaining sand.

“Shampoo?” asks Hux. You can get shampoo specifically for dogs, so he's pretty sure human stuff isn't ideal. Ren's nodding though, so he pours out a handful and lathers it into his fur. Once Ren's done, Hux sorts his own hair, wincing at the trail of grit slipping down the plughole.  
  
Another time, Ren might be nosing at his crotch, intent on mischief, but for now he's leaning, heavy, against Hux's leg, just two emotionally exhausted people cleaning up before bed.  
  
Ren waits till Hux has stepped out of the bath and is safely behind the shower screen before he shakes, fur standing up in damp spikes. Hux towels them both off, fighting down a yawn, and does his teeth running on pure habit.  
  
He startles when Ren rears up on his back legs, putting his paws on Hux's shoulders. His eyes are wide and earnest, but Hux has no idea what he's trying to communicate right now. Any guesses would just be him projecting.

“I love you, idiot,” he says again. “Thank you for coming back.” Ren gives a pained whine, like he can't stand Hux saying that. He nestles his head under Hux's chin, and Hux squeezes him, gently, so he doesn't overbalance. After a long, contented minute, Hux sighs. “Come on, bed.”  
  
***  
  
He's alone, when he wakes. The events of last night flip through his head, but he's already realised it was a dream. Not the first one he's had, about Ren, but definitely the cruellest. He stares up at the ceiling, not blinking, waiting for the tightness in his chest to ease.  
  
He doesn't notice the door swing open, until a voice says,

“Shit.” Hux frowns, looking over. Ren is standing in the doorway, holding two mugs and looking sheepish.

“Ren?” he breathes.

“Hey, Hux,” says Ren fondly. “I thought I'd get back before you woke up.” He puts one of the mugs down on the bedside table, and holds the other out to Hux. “I made tea.”  
  
Hux shuffles his way to sitting, and carefully accepts the mug. Somehow he doesn't spill it, though his limbs feel useless. He takes a sip. It's still too hot, but Ren's remembered how he likes it - strong, barely a splash of milk.  
  
It seems like a physical effort for Ren to wait until he's put the mug down to climb into bed, dragging Hux against him. Half a second later, Hux's face is pressed against a warm, naked chest, strong arms around him, holding him close. Ren smells like sunlight and shampoo and… home.  
  
“Ren, I-”

“Don't,” says Ren, putting a hand over his mouth. “You got to say everything last night. Don't repeat it - you'll make me feel even worse…” He doesn't remove his hand until Hux nods.

“Okay. My turn." He sucks in a deep breath. "I shouldn't have lashed out at you. I said some horrible things about you thinking of me as a pet that I know aren't true - I knew _then_ , I was just too furious to be reasonable. And I shouldn't have ghosted you. That was uncool. I'm sorry.”  
  
Reading between the lines, Hux understands that he's not apologising for getting mad, or for running away, and that's… good. People get angry sometimes, they need to let off steam.

“Can you tell me what set you off?” Hux winces. “I mean, _obviously_ the collar thing, but... why did you react so badly? I get the impression there's more to it…” Ren doesn't say anything, but he carries on stroking Hux's arm, palm rough but warm. When Hux shifts, worried he's made Ren uncomfortable, the hand clamps down, holding him still.

“I'm not offended, I just need to think how to explain this. Preferably without making myself sound like an idiot.”

“Ship's probably sailed on that one,” Hux murmurs, trying to inject some levity. He gets an amused huff in response. Ren leans his head back against the headboard, eyes closing.

“The day I approached you, I was so… lonely? Desperate? Maybe just exhausted. Whatever. I was watching you, in the garden, and I thought… fuck it, I'll just tell him what I am. See how badly it goes. Figured I could always bail and run away.” He sighs, pressing a kiss into Hux's hair.

“But then it didn't go badly. It went _brilliantly_. You were… perfect. You accepted all of me, the wolf, the human, the past - all of it.” He pauses. “Hey, you remember when Millicent scratched me?”

“Yeah…” The mark on his nose has long since healed, but Hux runs a finger gently down the bridge anyway.

“I was terrified.”

“Of _her_?”

“No, moron. I thought I'd screwed up, and you were going to ask me to stay in my human form. But you didn't.” Of course he wouldn't have asked that - Ren had told him about getting restless if he didn't shift. Hux keeps this to himself though, sensing Ren has more to say.

“So then, the _second_ I got an excuse, I panicked. I thought, ‘oh, yeah, it _was_ too good to be true’. And I bolted.” Hux understands the feeling perfectly.

“Neither of us really believe we deserve nice things,” he agrees. “I mean, I'm a furry who somehow landed a _werewolf_ for a boyfriend, so if you want to talk about hitting the jackpot, I think I have you beat. I was expecting it to go down in flames too - luck that good doesn't last.” Ren swallows.

“Boyfriend?” His voice is small.

“Well. That's how I saw us.”

“What about now?”

“Let's finish this conversation, before we worry about terminology.” A chuckle rumbles through the chest beneath him.

“Where were we, then?” Hux ticks things off on his fingers.

“Apologies, explanations… Oh, can I ask where you went?”

“I went home, to my parents' house. Manor, rather. It's up in Yorkshire.”

“Ah. I was way off then…”

“You tried to figure out who my parents are?” Hux curls into his neck, embarrassed.

“Among other things. Don't examine my search history, okay? Just don't.” Ren squeezes him.

“Anyway, I couldn't face telling my family what happened. I just sort of… sat in my room, wallowing, and all I could think was how much I wanted to be here, with you, instead. But I didn't know how to explain why I'd exploded on you like that.”

“What changed?” Ren smiles ruefully.

“Rey knocked some sense into me. Bullied me until I told her about you. Said if I liked this guy so much, it was worth at least _trying_ to talk to him when I wasn't ‘blind with rage’. Her words. Also, it took her pointing it out for me to realise - you didn't _know_.”

“Know… what?”

“Snoke had me wear a collar.” Hux closes his eyes, wishing he'd figured that out. With hindsight, it's an easy leap to make. Stupid pink sparkly thing must have triggered a host of bad memories. He hugs Ren tighter.

“I saw your email,” Ren carries on, “Sorry for not replying. Couldn't find the words. It kinda helped though, to convince me you'd listen. I wanted to talk to you in person. Not that I'm better with spoken words than written ones, but…”

“In person, there's room to clear up misinterpretations,” says Hux, remembering the trauma of composing that three-word email.

“Yeah. Exactly. And then… I finally made it all the way back here - ten solid days, it took me. And it was a full moon. I was so frustrated. So close. The _one_ time I really needed to be human… And then you appeared anyway.” He pauses, looking down at Hux. “Why _were_ you out there? Were you looking for me?”

“Yeah,” Hux whispers. “I heard you howl.”

“Oh. That would have been the frustration.” It doesn't sound like Ren's actually annoyed at him, for finding him while he was still a wolf. “Did you think I'd gotten stuck again?”

“No… I just. I don't know. It's been difficult, not being able to _do_ anything.” He feels Ren's jaw clench, and his arms wrap around him even more possessively, if that were possible.

“I promise I'll talk to you, if there's a next time,” he says quietly, “I'll try not to just blow up and storm out.”

“I'll try not to step on any more landmines.”

“Deal?”

“Deal.”  
  
Hux eases himself off of Ren, sitting up so he can take another swig of tea. They are both in danger of dissolving into sniffles, and tea is the best distraction available.

“Anything else we need to cover?” asks Ren, draining his own mug.

“Let's see, apologies, explanations, promises regarding future conduct… that's pretty much it, for make-up conversations.”

“What about declarations of love?” Hux blinks at him, at his lopsided smile. “I love you, Hux. I _hated_ that you got to say it last night and I couldn't.”  
  
Shakily, Hux puts his mug back down, and then Ren's holding out a hand and tugging him close and cupping his cheek and kissing him, so softly, so tenderly, like he's afraid Hux will vanish if he's not careful. Hux's eyes are glassy, when they finally part.

“Are we… okay, then?”

“A few rounds of make-up sex and we'll be rock solid,” Ren grins.  
  
Hux is soaring. Ren is _here_ , in his bed, hopefully about to fuck him into oblivion, and they're _okay_.  
  
He kisses Ren again, harder, nibbling on his lip to make him open up, sweeping his tongue inside to flick against Ren's. A long shudder goes through him, and Ren slides them down, so they're flat on the bed, legs tangling, bodies fully pressed together.  
  
Hux is so glad he didn't put on pyjamas last night - skin against warm skin is a sensation he didn't want to wait for. Christ, he's already getting hard, despite the mess of emotions from that conversation. Ren ducks down, mouthing at his neck, and Hux's breath stutters.

“Hang on,” says Ren, leaning back. “What day is it?”

“Thursday.”

“What about work?”

“Oh, crap,” Hux mutters, scrabbling for his phone. It's 8:56. “I'll text Phasma and tell her something’s come up.” No one has the authority to press him for more details, thank god.  
  
His thumbs fly over the screen, and then he hits the send button and chucks the phone over the side of the bed. Ren glances between the discarded phone and Hux's intense expression.

“Sorry for spoiling the mood?” he offers. Hux dives back onto him, practically attacking him with kisses. Ren's hands are everywhere, as if he needs to touch all of Hux at once. He's missed the slight roughness of Ren's palms, and arches into it, panting, bumping their erections together until Ren deliberately shifts his hips back. Hux frowns at him, but Ren just kisses his nose.

“Fur?”  
  
Oh.  
  
“Yes, fuck, please.” Dense fur slides down Ren's body, from his throat to his feet, slow enough that Hux can follow the sweep of it. His mouth has gone dry. Making an undignified sound, he cuddles into Ren, every nerve alight, deciding the only thing better than warm, naked skin is soft fur.  
  
Ren eases a thigh between Hux's, giving him something to rut against. His face is burning hot, ashamed of how obviously erotic he finds this, but Ren is shushing him and holding him close and he's hard too, cock a firm length against his hip.

“I need you inside me,” Hux whispers, gratified to hear Ren gulp.

“Lube... where's the lube again?”

“Your side,” says Hux, pointing. Ren groans, grabbing Hux and rolling them over, so he can reach the drawer. He pulls out the first bottle-like shape he can feel, unwilling to break even that much contact, and peers at it.

“Strawberry flavour?”

“Ah, yeah. Check that's still in date, would you?” Hux bought it ages ago, to use with a partner who had something of an oral fixation.

“Uh, can't see a date…”

“Give it here.” Hux realises the bottle hasn't even been opened. “We're fine. It's still sealed.” Ren's giving him a look that might be verging on pity. Hux ignores him, twisting the cap off and pumping a healthy amount of lube onto Ren's offered fingers.  
  
He presses close as Ren reaches behind him, trailing fingertips down the base of his spine, down the cleft of his ass, finding his little hole and circling it. Carefully, Ren eases one digit inside him, twisting as he goes, and the angle means he can't get that deep, but it's still enough to make Hux tremble.  
  
He buries his face in Ren's neck, fur so soft against his cheek, and concentrates on keeping still, so his lover can work him open. It's very difficult not to just rock his hips and let the sensation of fur on his cock - and everywhere else - carry him over the edge.  
  
As he slips a second finger in, Ren nudges him, getting him to lift his head enough to recapture his mouth, greedily absorbing the little mewls and pants Hux is making. Hux can sort of hear himself, but he's too focused on _feeling_ to be embarrassed. At least until-

“You make the most adorable noises, little fox,” Ren murmurs, making Hux screw his eyes closed even more tightly, a frown wrinkling his forehead. “Hey, hey, come on. I'm not making fun.” He rubs Hux's back with his free hand. “Look at me,” he whispers.  
  
When Hux cracks one suspicious eye open, he grins and pops his wolf ears out of his hair. Hux bursts out laughing, shaking with the absurdity of it, nearly dislodging Ren's fingers.  
  
He reaches up, taking an ear in each hand, petting the silky fur, transfixed as they twitch in his loose grip. Ren rolls his body, giving Hux another burst of fur sliding against his straining erection, and he chokes off a whimper.

“You're so fucking _weak_ for me, for this,” he growls. “It's intoxicating.”

“I am,” Hux agrees, eyes unfocused, “You could probably sit on my chest and just slowly brush your tail over my cock and I'd come. It wouldn't even take long.” God, that would be the best kind of torture - pinned flat, staring up at Ren as he lazily strokes himself, grinning and telling Hux he'd better hurry up or he's going to come all over him. Ren chuckles, adding more lube to his slick hole, and scissoring his fingers.

“Fur really does it for you, huh?”

“It's mostly you, but yeah.” Hux wonders if Ren's trying to keep him talking to distract him, to stave off his orgasm. It's becoming apparent that he needs to do _something_ , or else this will be a very short encounter.

“Y'know, I can picture you lying, stark naked, in a pile of furs, maybe in front of a roaring fire, cos it would highlight your hair, looking like some barbarian warrior's prize - as you're just frantically jacking it.”  
  
Okay, maybe delaying his orgasm isn't Ren's goal.

“Have you ever done something like that? Like, humped a fur rug?”

“I'm not into _rugs_.” Hux rolls his eyes.

“I know, I know, just as a prop?” He eases a third finger into Hux's hole, pumping them slowly. Hux takes a deep breath.

“You wanna hear a not-very-sexy story?”

“Absolutely.”

“My grandma had a mink stole. It was ancient - she'd bought it well before fur was considered cruel - but it was the softest, loveliest thing, and she donated it to me, basically as a coming out present. Said she'd known from when I was like five, and I found the stole in her wardrobe, and insisted on wearing it draped around my skinny shoulders all afternoon-!” His voice lurches on the last word, as Ren crooks his fingers, grazing his prostate.

“Go on.”

“Fuck you.”

“Go on, Hux.”

“Anyway!” he grits out. “This thing became a… well-used prop, in my alone time. I'd be stroking it with one hand and my cock with the other and trying really hard not to think about grandma…” Ren is full-on giggling underneath him now.

“And then one time I accidentally came on it. I tried to rinse it out and ended up ruining the whole piece. I was too young to do anything except panic and throw it away.” The shame - and the _waste_ \- still haunts him.

“And that's the story of your first sex toy?” Hux nods. Ren is looking annoyingly pensive, for someone who has three fingers stuffed inside his lover. “I thought you said your furry awakening was at uni?”

“It was - before that I just thought I was some kind of… I don't know, unspecified deviant?” Ren cups his cheek, drawing him into another kiss.

“Sounds like we both struggled to understand ourselves, growing up. At least I always knew exactly what I was.”

“Don't, Ren…” warns Hux. He doesn't want sympathy. He's never needed it, and he _particularly_ doesn't need it now, because, again, _his_ _lover_ _has three fingers stuffed inside him_.

“Well, luckily, says Ren, shit-eating grin firmly back in place, “ _I_ am not dry-clean only.” Hux meets his gaze.

“I can make a mess of you?”

“Please do. But not yet - there's something else I want to try.” With a final twist, he slips his fingers out, leaving Hux loose and empty. Hux passes him the wet wipes so he can clean off, and then Ren fixes him with an impish look.

“Sit on my face.”

“What?”

“Sit on my face, I want to _feast_ on you.” He sticks his tongue out… and out…  
  
Fuck.  
  
Dimly, Hux remembers saying he wanted Ren to shove his wolf-tongue inside him. They never got round to trying it, but apparently Ren didn't forget. He lies back, pillow under his head, beckoning for Hux.

“Uh, which way round?”

“Face the end of the bed.” Hux is not confident this is going to work, but Ren seems eager, and really, who is he to deny him?  
  
He's awkward, as he tries to get in position without clonking Ren, glad his yoga-born flexibility allows him to put his knees either side of Ren's shoulders. He looks back, uncertain. Ren is sort of trapped underneath him, upper arms pinned by Hux's ankles - but he suspects that might be part of the fun, judging by Ren's delighted expression.  
  
He feels Ren's hands on his cheeks, spreading them apart, guiding him down so Ren can press his mouth to his hole. He doesn't dive right in, which Hux is grateful for - he starts by licking all the way along his taint, long tongue able to reach his balls easily.  
  
Hux shivers, unused to being touched in that sensitive place, never mind _licked_. He tilts his hips to give Ren better access and the man hums appreciatively, tongue dancing on his skin.

“That's... that's nice,” Hux pants, feeling like he has to say something. Ren's laugh vibrates through him.

“It's gonna get nicer.” His voice is a bit muffled. He flicks his tongue around Hux's rim, teasing the nerve endings, before sliding the whole thing in, the loosened muscle offering no resistance.  
  
It's fucking _nothing_ like Hux has ever felt, the way it flexes and wiggles and _keeps goin_ g, working deeper and deeper inside him.

“Oh god, oh fuck, that's so weird…” Ren twists his tongue, and Hux melts, all but collapsing on top of him. He has to brace his hands on Ren's hip bones, forcing himself to stay upright, to stay still, to let Ren play with him.  
  
The man is making obscene noises now, slurping like he really were eating Hux. His hands are kneading Hux's cheeks, the rhythmic squeeze a counterpoint to the thrust of his tongue.  
  
Hux feels… decadent. It's incredible, having someone worship his body so thoroughly and completely. He can't help pushing down a little, wanting as much of Ren's brilliant tongue inside him as possible.  
  
Ren moans, encouraging him. His very human erection hasn't flagged a bit, lying heavy and full on his stomach, precome dribbling onto fur that's paler on his front than his back - just like his wolf-form, Hux notices, with the tiny slice of brain that's able to notice anything except the squirming tongue in his ass.  
  
He unlocks one elbow, running a fingertip lightly all the way down Ren's length before stroking his balls. They're covered in soft fur.

“Fluffy…” he whispers, entranced. Beneath him, Ren makes a choking sound, and his cock bobs, leaking another drop of precome. Quite possibly this is why Ren had him face this way, Hux thinks, tumbling the furry balls between his fingers. Ren grips him harder, the muscles in his arms tensing, tongue spearing into him.  
  
Hux fumbles for the lube, and the scent of fake strawberry assaults him as he wraps a slick hand around Ren's cock, pumping him. Ren groans, pulling his tongue out to circle Hux's poor, twitching rim, and then plunges it back in.

“Oh, yes, _please_ ,” gasps Hux. He doesn't dare touch his own cock - any direct stimulation and he'll go off like a rocket - but he's starting to ache with sheer need. Ren's tongue is just teasing his prostate, flickering against it, and it's too gentle, too light... He tries to focus on stroking Ren's cock, but he can't even maintain a proper rhythm, distracted by the gluttonous slurps and gulps coming from underneath him.

“Fuck,” he swallows. “I'd love to keep you trapped here, make you eat me out for hours, smother you with my ass as a reward, when you please me.” He moans as Ren's fingers spread his hole open so he can go deeper.

“Would you like me to come, while you've got your tongue in me? Want to feel me clench and shudder around you, sucking you in?” Ren makes a sound that could possibly be transcribed as 'yersssh!!'

“Well, too bad” he gasps, “I want your cock too much to give you that - this time.” As he says it, he realises it's true. He cranes back over his shoulder. All that's visible of Ren is his mop of hair and his wolf ears.

“Ren. Ren, you've got to stop.” For a moment he thinks Ren's ignoring him, but slowly, slowly he pulls his tongue all the way out of Hux, giving his hole a few lingering sweeps.  
  
Hux needs all his concentration to get off of Ren without faceplanting.  
  
Ren levers himself up, leaning back against the headboard and rolling his jaw. Hux realises belatedly that they picked about the most demanding angle for ass-eating. He grabs Hux's tea, taking a swig and wincing.

“I will never understand how you can have so little milk.”

“It has to taste better than ass,” says Hux dryly.

“Strawberry ass isn't bad, actually...” he smirks. Hux shakes his head in mock disbelief. He already feels empty, eager to stuff something else inside him.

“You're really fucking good at that,” he says, crawling up Ren's body, putting a palm to his chest to keep him still. “Now stay there and let me ride you.” He's driven partly by the sense that Ren's been doing all the work so far, and partly by the desire to watch Ren's face as his heat envelops him.  
  
He straddles Ren, reaching for his cock. He strokes it a few more times, adding more lube and coaxing him back to full attention, and then lifts up, positioning the blunt head at his hole, glad Ren's cupping his ass in his huge hands to help spread him.  
  
He pushes down, biting his lip as the stretch begins. It burns at first, just like it always does, sending tingles up his spine, but he knows he can take it, knows he won't damage himself, so he keeps going, nice and slowly.

“That's it, Hux, let me in,” Ren groans, head thrown back. They both gasp when the tip slips past the ring of muscle, Hux pausing to let his body get used to it. It's only been two months since he last had Ren's ample cock inside him, but the feeling is brand new.  
  
He wills his spasming muscles to relax, to stop strangling Ren, and lets his weight carry him downwards, the shaft pressing deeper, inch by gorgeous inch.  
  
It's so vulnerable, being speared open like this. He's grown to love taking it slow, so they can both relish the sensations, but he also loves when they're urgent and desperate and Ren slides home in one long thrust, giving his body no respite, forcing it to accommodate him. Ren will sometimes do that when he's spent too long stretching him open, and they're both on edge.  
  
They never last, after that, and right now, Hux wants to take his time, wants to appreciate having Ren close, having him _here_ , where he belongs.  
  
The man's expression is part bliss, part pained frustration - exactly the same as Hux's. He drops the last couple of inches, bottoming out, Ren's thighs pushing up to meet him as he does, making sure he's taken the whole length. Hux sighs, beautific smile growing.

“I'm so _full_ , Ren,” he purrs, “I'll never be able to get you out, you fit so perfectly.” Whimpering, Ren slips a hand into his bright hair, guiding him into a kiss.

“My little fox,” he whispers, against his lips.

“My _big_ bad wolf,” Hux replies, emphasising with a roll of his hips, making Ren's length shift inside him.  
  
He feels a strange prickling against his cheek, and when he leans back, Ren is wearing his full wolf head - except for the warm, brown, human eyes. He looks… He looks wild. Beautiful. Analytically, he looks like a proper fursona - human build, animal features, soft fur everywhere. Of course he'd know exactly how to do this, he's drawn enough furry art to know the conventions.

“Good?” he asks, and Hux abruptly remembers when he first found out Hux was a furry, remembers him offering… this.

“You can still talk, like that?”

“Yeah. It took a lot of practice, but if I keep my human vocal chords, and have my muzzle just a bit shorter, I can manage.” That's no small task, figuring out how to produce English sounds without a human mouth.

“Did… did you learn for me?” Ren nods.

“It seemed important.” He's frowning like he's not quite sure why, but Hux gets it.

“Yeah. I like my partners to be able to tell me what they want, what they enjoy.” Unable to resist, he strokes Ren's face, ruffling him under the chin, fondling his ears…  
  
He's aware this is what he'd do to an affectionate dog that was begging for attention, and hopes fervently that Ren won't call him out for it. Ren just chuckles, seemingly content, his eyes drifting closed.  
  
And then one cracks open again.

“Did you just boop my nose?”

“Uh…” He did.  
  
Ren’s cock flexes, hard, the involuntary movement making them both moan. Hux blinks, refocusing.

“Oh yeah. Sex. Right.”

“You mentioned something about riding me?”

“I did, didn't I?” Hux returns his hands to Ren's shoulders, using him for balance and leverage as he carefully slides up Ren's cock, until just the head is holding him open, and then works himself back down.  
  
He has to take it slowly, at first, as his ass reacquaints itself with exactly how fucking good this feels. It's also important to get a gauge of how long the slide is, so he doesn't accidentally come all the way off when he starts moving in earnest.  
  
He grinds down on Ren as he bottoms out, making his cock press wonderfully against his inner walls. Ren curses under his breath. His hands - they're almost paws, at the moment - are restless on Hux's thighs, stroking as he tries to relax and let Hux set the pace. It's so transparent that he wants it faster, harder, that Hux just _has_ to remain slow, drinking in the pathetic whines he's dragging from his lover.  
  
Ren's enormous, inside him. Hux wants to cry for how _right_ , how _complete_ he feels, taking the whole length of his cock. He's so greedy for it, _he'd_ be demanding more if Ren were the one holding back.

“Plant your feet for me,” he orders. Ren obeys, and Hux leans back a little, hands coming to Ren's knees, changing the angle just enough to-

“Ahh! Yes!” He squeezes his eyes closed as he slams Ren directly into his prostate. It's like a jolt of electricity straight to his cock, making him tingle all over.  
  
He takes pity on them both, lifting up and slamming his hips back down, easing into a fluid rhythm, quick enough to start driving them towards orgasm.

“Hux!” Ren gasps, “You gorgeous, perfect, brilliant creature. You have no idea how _tight_ you are, squeezing my cock, swallowing me whole!”

“See, this is why I'm glad you can speak,” he laughs, eyes still closed in concentration. He's not sure which is better, the fullness, the _pressure_ of Ren's cock sliding deep into him, or the relief as it withdraws.  
  
They're blending into one delicious push and pull when Ren cranes forward, flicking his tongue over one of Hux's nipples. They aren't quite as sensitive as his neck, but the extra, unexpected stimulation makes Hux shiver, disrupting his rhythm.

“Hey!” He swats at Ren with one hand, trying to recover, but Ren's holding on round his waist, not budging an inch, switching to the other nipple and giving it the same treatment. Hux arches, unable to resist, wanting Ren's tongue everywhere, reduced to rocking in his lap to keep up some semblance of movement.

“Ren, let me carry on,” he begs.

“In a sec.” He swirls around a puckered little bud. “I got a bit too close too fast.” He can faintly feel Ren's cock throbbing, where it's seated inside him.  
  
Hux sighs indulgently, petting Ren's head and letting himself focus on the more delicate sensations the man's giving him. His cock is once again pressed against Ren's fur-covered abs, still untouched and craving more friction. Ren finally leans back, breath slowing, looking up at Hux with a mischievous smile.

“Want me to knot you?” Hux's eyes blow wide.

“You… can actually…?” Ren nods.

“Yes. Fuck, yes. Definitely do that.”

“You don't want to check how big it's going to get? How long it'll last?” He's teasing, but Hux is _not_.

“Surprise me. Make me take it all. Make me scream with the size of it.” He knows Ren won't injure him. It's Ren's turn to stare stupidly, and then a possessive growl works it way out of his throat.

“My little fox,” he breathes. “I'm going to fill you to the brim.” Ren loosens his grip, letting Hux start to move again, thrusting up to meet him as their orgasms build, tight coils of warmth in their bellies.  
  
Hux feels when it starts, the base of Ren's cock swelling a little, catching on his rim. He whimpers at the almost-pain of being stretched even wider.

“Oh fuck, here it comes,” Ren gasps, and on the next thrust he slams all the way in, pulling Hux down and holding him still as his knot suddenly expands inside him. It's weird, it's so weird, but it's fucking _glorious_.

“Ren!" Hux shouts, insensible with pleasure, “Yes, give it to me! Give me everything!” The bulb is still swelling, getting impossibly bigger, plugging him up so perfectly, and Ren is panting into his shoulder as he comes, and keeps coming, shudders racking his body.  
  
His grip on Hux is bruising, preventing him from trying to pull away - not that he would. Hux is delirious, the fullness in his ass is _everything_ he wanted, and the little unconscious movements Ren is still making are rubbing the knot gently against his prostate.  
  
He slips one shaking hand down between them, wrapping it around his cock, only for Ren to snarl and bat it away, replacing it with his own. Their eyes meet.

“Please, Ren, let me come on your knot.” Ren noses into his neck, licking a long stripe all the way up to his ear. Those sharp teeth ghosting over his skin… it feels dangerous in the best possible way. Like Ren's a wild beast he has no chance of taming, but by some miracle is _choosing_ to be here, to be tied to Hux.

“I'm so close, Ren, please, _please_ make me come.” With a breathy, wicked chuckle, Ren's clawed hand starts moving, his grip perfectly tight, his strokes perfectly paced, and within seconds he's wringing Hux's orgasm from him in a helpless crescendo of pleasure.  
  
Hux screams, his inner muscles clenching around the firm bulb, senses overloaded, able to process nothing except the exquisite feeling of being stuffed full.

“Oh Hux, you're squeezing me so tight! Fuck, I'm gonna-” Ren climaxes again, moaning, a few more spurts of come pulsing deep into Hux.  
  
They cling to each other as aftershocks run through them, where they're connected. Ren's arms are wrapped around his waist while Hux strokes him feverishly, enjoying the dense fur.

“You're so soft,” he says for about the fifth time.

“Of course I am - I got shampooed just last night.” Hux laughs weakly. “I'm starting to think I might like being petted,” he muses, when Hux's hands don't stop running over his shoulders, his back. He presses an almost-kiss to Hux's neck.

“Are you okay, little fox? It's not too much?” There's a thread of worry in his voice that makes no sense to Hux, in his blissed-out happy place, until he realises Ren's never done this with a partner, and maybe needs a little reassurance.

“I'm great. It's even better than I imagined,” he smiles. “Can't believe I thought I was full _before_...” His inner muscles have turned to jelly, giving up the fight against the intrusion.  
  
That was, by quite some way, the most intense, powerful orgasm he's ever had - surely he hit the ceiling with it... He looks up, then down between their bodies.

“Shit, I came in your lovely fur!” He's irrationally distraught, tries to shift backwards and flinches as the knot pulls at his hole.

“Don't move!” Ren pleads, hugging him tighter. “You'll hurt yourself.” Hux grits his teeth, sucking in a deep breath.

“No kidding, that thing's huge.” He remembers Ren assuring him that he could make a mess of him, that it would wash out, and slowly relaxes. “How long before it goes down?”

“About twenty minutes.”

“Jeez.” Ren looks at him sideways.

“I could just change back,” he offers.

“No, don't,” says Hux, very quickly. “This is… I like being connected to you.” He's aware that's corny as all hell.

“Hey,” says Ren, pushing a few strands of hair back from Hux's forehead. He's got his human face on, except for the ears - maybe so Hux can read his sincerity more easily. “I'm not going to run away. I'm not going to leave you.” But Hux is shaking his head, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“You don't have to say that. If you need to run, then run. Just promise me you'll come back.” Ren's looking up at him like he's some kind of merciful deity, instead of a red-faced, fucked-out mess.

“I promise. You're _stuck_ with me now.” He creases up at his own joke, laughter jostling the knot, sending little ripples through them.

“How did you figure out the knotting?” asks Hux. “Did you get inspired by furry art requests and do some covert research on wolf sex?” (Like he'd done…)

“Oh, no it was way earlier than that. And it was a straight-up accident. Back when I was a horny teenager, I was masturbating, but with my wolf cock, y'know, just for variety.”

“Does it feel different?” Hux can't help interrupting. He shrugs.

“A bit. Anyway, I had a hand down at the base and I could feel like a strange texture there, and it was kinda sensitive, so I squeezed it as I got close, and suddenly it was expanding, like a flesh balloon or something. Nearly panicked. But it felt so _good_ , when I used both hands and sorta massaged it. I fucking drenched my sheets. Didn't realise about the multiple orgasms thing.”

“Surely _that_ bit must have been a nice surprise…”

“I mean, I'm not complaining. The first one is the biggest, the most intense, and then I get mini ones, like little extra shots.”

“And they're triggered when I squeeze you, like this?” Hux tightens as many muscles as he can control, clenching down on the knot. Ren groans, head falling onto Hux's shoulder.

“You… ass. You already know this.” Hux grins.

“How many can you have?”

“…Why do I feel like answering that is a bad idea?”

“Because you've already figured out what I'm planning, why I want to know.”

“Tell me anyway,” he whispers, catching Hux in a kiss.

“Tomorrow,” says Hux, against his parted lips, “when I get home, I want to find you sprawled right here, stroking yourself. I'm going to sit in that chair, in my suit, and just watch you. I want you to show me your knot, I want to see if it's really as big as it feels, right now. He grinds down again, ignoring the first twinges of oversensitivity. “Can you picture it? Me, sitting primly, back straight, totally composed as I watch you pleasure yourself. Would you do that? Would you put on a show for me?”

“There isn't much I wouldn't do for you, little fox. But I'd rather you joined in…”

“Oh?” Hux brings his mouth right to a pointed ear. “Well, I suppose I could use my tie to bind your wrists to the headboard. Imagine the frustration, imagine the _desperation_ I could cause, if I weren't in a generous mood. You'd have to let me touch you, teach me how to make you pop, accept me milking you until you're covered in your own come.”  
  
He underlines this with one more valiant squeeze around Ren, and the man keens, eyes going blank as he comes again, like it's being dragged from him. He's trembling beneath Hux, still rocking into him in aborted thrusts.

“If you won't tell me how many times, I'll just have to find out for myself, push you until you're begging for mercy.”

“I'm begging _now_ , Hux. Stop before I die.” Chuckling, Hux does his best to relax, to just enjoy the pressure of the bulb wedged snugly inside him. If Ren moves too hard, it pushes into his prostate and that _is_ getting uncomfortable. He winces as Ren leans over to grab the box of tissues.

“Sorry – oversensitive?”

“A bit.” Ren strokes his flushed cheek. “It's nearly finished.” Hux's mind wants to stay tied to Ren forever, but his body is _done_.  
  
The knot deflating inside him feels, if possible, even stranger than expanding - it's a lot slower, bringing his abused passage a gradual, gentle relief.  
  
As Ren's cock softens, Hux shoves a bunch of tissues underneath him, between Ren's legs, not entirely sure how much come has been pumped into him. He makes an embarrassing whimper as Ren finally slips out, waiting until most of the mess has leaked out to try dismounting. His knees and thighs are aching.  
  
He stays upright just long enough to pitch the tissues into the bin, and recover the duvet that got shoved to the floor early on in proceedings, then Ren's welcoming him back into his arms, beaming like a ray of sunlight.  
  
A sunbeam.  
  
His own personal sunbeam.  
  
Does he know that? Does he know Hux wants to bask in his warmth and never move again?

“I'm glad you like to cuddle after sex,” says Ren, as if hearing his introspective thoughts. “I remember I didn't think you would, somehow. You have a lot of sharp edges.”  
  
He's ruffling Hux's hair, messing it up - not that it wasn't a mess already - and it's only then that Hux notices _he's_ ruffling Ren's tail. He feels like Ren automatically offered it to him, and he automatically accepted. The rest of his wolf features are gone.  
  
Hus wants to protest the 'sharp edges' comment, but he knows what Ren means - it's his barbed wit, his guarded demeanour, it's all the personal information he doesn't volunteer.

“Sometimes I love being proved wrong,” Ren sighs, happily. Hux tucks his face into Ren's neck, inhaling his scent, _their_ scent, even though right now it's mainly sex and fake strawberry.

“I wanted to tell you something else.”

“Hmm?” Hux is drowsy with post-coital peace.

“My name was Ben. Ben Solo.”

“Solo…” repeats Hux, brain coming back online. He jerks up when he makes the connection, staring at Ren. “Your mother is Leia Organa- _Solo_? The fucking Leader of the Opposition?? Are you kidding me?”  
  
The woman is a political marvel, a vocal but dignified - and effective - advocate for progressive reforms. Now he thinks about it, she is (was?) an MP for somewhere in Yorkshire. But…

“I had no idea she even had a son.”

“She's very private, about her family. Probably because neither me nor dad can be trusted not to blurt out whatever's on our minds, regardless of context.”

“Did you change your name so people wouldn't realise you're related?” 'Solo' is nearly as distinctive as 'Hux', after all.

“I picked 'Kylo Ren' as my pseudonym, when I first started posting art online. I changed it properly while I was under Snoke - didn't want anyone to know who I was... Snoke did, of course.”  
  
Ah. Another way for him to keep his pet wolf under control. Ren frowns, unpleasant memories resurfacing.

“He would tell me that my family had rejected me, not understood me, that there was no way back to them now, that my mum would protect her career over me. None of it makes sense, when I think about it with a level head. But at the time...”

“Yeah. Snoke's specialities: manipulation and mind games.” The tip of Ren's tail is flicking anxiously against his palm, and Hux keeps stroking it.  
  
He wonders whether Snoke tried to extort Organa-Solo for political favours, or maybe just money - certainly there were plenty of questionable transactions on his accounts. Ren clears his throat.

“Afterwards... well, I didn't feel much like my parents' son anymore, so I carried on being Kylo Ren.” Hux considers for a moment.

“Do you want me to call you Ben?”

“Do you want me to call you _Armitage_?” He retorts, immediately. Hux pulls a face. So he did notice, on that letter.

“Fair enough, _Ren_.”  
  
It's obvious he's using 'Kylo Ren' as penance for the past, not allowing himself to forget the things he did. Which might be a bad sign, psychologically - except he's also using it in defiance.  
  
The name may be associated with Snoke, but it never _belonged_ to him. It was always Ren's.  
  
* * *  
  
The rest of it feels perfunctory - just admin they have to clear up before they can officially reach 'and they lived happily ever after'.  
  
They drive all the way to Canterbury, which turns out to be where Ren was living. It's not as far as Yorkshire, but it's still a long way, on four feet or two. Hux asks what route he took, how he ended up in Devon, but Ren hadn't really been aiming for anywhere. It was pure coincidence he'd ended up on the moors, that night – and coincidence that Hux had been out walking and heard him.  
  
Hux doesn't believe in fate, or karma, or other mystical forces - though Ren seems to - and shivers for how easily they could have _not_ met.  
  
They arrive with only a couple of hours to clean out Ren's room before the estate agent comes to collect the keys. Thank god they're still where Ren concealed them, in the base of a withered patio umbrella in the concrete back yard. Hux thinks of the fuchsia pot, in his lovely green garden.  
  
It turns out Ren brought Hux along mainly because he wants to see his reaction to the filth in the shared house. It does not disappoint. Hux nearly balks just at the smell, which seems to be equal parts burnt food, rotten food, body spray, and weed.  
  
They nod at two disinterested people lounging in the living room. When Hux asks who they were, a little perplexed not to get any introductions, Ren confesses he has no clue - it's a six-bedroom house, and turnover is high. Likely they moved in after he'd left.

“I imagine,” says Hux, still breathing through his mouth even once they are safely in Ren's room, “I imagine being a wolf here was excruciating.” Ren wrinkles his nose, grinning. Then next door turns their TV on, and Hux can pick out actual dialogue.

“Truly a feast for the senses,” says Ren.  
  
He doesn't have much, in the way of material possessions. There're some clothes, a phone and tablet, and a few sketchbooks full of doodles.

“I can't carry anything, when I'm a wolf, so it always seemed a bit pointless to have loads of… stuff.” It all fits in one backpack. Anything he doesn't care to keep gets shoved in the bin, or left in the kitchen for needy housemates to swipe.  
  
They do attempt to clean the room, but even Hux's inbuilt desire to make things spotless can't compete with the built-up grime - or with Ren saying his mother won't even notice that she doesn't get the deposit back.  
  
On the drive home, Ren calls her, just to tell her that she can stop paying for the room in Canterbury. He should have predicted it wouldn't be that simple. Organa-Solo doesn't get to talk to her son as often as she'd like, and she's not about to let him off lightly when he's bringing news on the scale of ‘moving in with a partner’.  
  
From what Hux can determine, listening to Ren's half of the conversation, Rey cracked under interrogation and told Organa-Solo that Ren's sojourn with them was because of a boy, that he'd left to try to win him back. She's parentally delighted it went so well.

“Yes, he looks after me,” says Ren, shifting in the passenger seat, face slowly turning red. “Yes, he's very handsome…” Hux is dying, trying to keep from cackling.

“Yes, he knows about the werewolf thing... No, he's fine with it... Yes, of course I'll be careful.” He’s staring fixedly out the window at the rushing fields.

“Mum… mum… just, put Rey on the phone?” Rey has gone shopping with Uncle Luke, it turns out.  
  
Ren looks haggard, once he's finally hung up. He leans back against the headrest, eyes pinching closed.

“She wants to meet you.”

“I gathered.”

“You are officially and forcefully invited to Dad's birthday party.” Hux nearly laughs, imagining just him and Ren's dad awkwardly eating cake, surrounded by wolves. “What about your family?”

“My family?” Hux doesn’t follow.

“...Do you _have_ a family?”

“Of course I have-”

“You’ve literally only mentioned your dead grandma.” Has he, really? Hux frowns, trying to think back over the things they’ve talked about. Ren facepalms.

“Yes, I have living relatives,” says Hux.

“Okay, good. Did you tell them about me?”

“I told them,” says Hux, remembering the most recent Family Video Call. It occurs to him that he'd managed to send Ren on an errand, so he wouldn't overhear...  
  
He's never mentioned previous partners to his family, not once. His siblings had poked fun, as if Ren were his first, and his father had blinked, mildly annoyed to be reminded that his eldest son was gay.

“I think you'll have to fake being human for them.” He glances apologetically at Ren.

“Shouldn't be too taxing - you don't seem like you're close.”

“That's the sanitised way to put it.” Ren's waiting for more, it's in the way he's half-turned towards him, expression determined but patient.  
  
Hux grips the steering wheel. And then he starts talking.  
  
Over the course of the next few hours, he pours out his life story, joining up the few dots he'd already given Ren. Somehow it's easier to get everything said, when he can focus on the road instead of the man beside him.  
  
* * *  
  
Ren gets a part-time job at the kennels down the lane, helping the elderly owners out with dog walking…  
  
He keeps it secret from Hux for nearly a week, having predicted - correctly - that Hux would spend a solid five minutes incapacitated with laughter.

“Oh my god, what if that Jack Russell boards there!” He collapses again, gasping for breath.  
  
Ren spends a solid five hours not speaking to him, but is eventually won back by an apology blowjob.  
  
* * *  
  
“Hey, Hux!” calls Ren, as soon as the front door shuts. “C'mere.” Hux unties his shoes, toeing them off and padding into the living room.

“I drew you something.” Hux's eyebrows go up. “It's not nudes.” Eyebrows down. Ren shakes his head in mock disapproval, passing Hux the tablet. Hux looks at it silently for a very long time.

“It's… it's our house.” Not from the front, but the back - the view from the gap in the hedge. Ren's drawn it with the proportions and colours exaggerated to make it look like a fairy-tale cottage. There's a ginger cat in the garden, sniffing a flower.

“Check this out.” Ren taps one of the menus with the stylus, bringing a different layer forward, and suddenly the pair of them are standing in the garden too - Ren's got an arm slung around Hux, and Millicent is arching against his leg. They look like a cocky witch, his long-suffering assistant, and their familiar, somehow.  
  
Hux almost voices this impression, but Ren switches layers again, and then he's sitting beside Hux in wolf form, with Hux's hand resting on his head. Hux is wearing a red coat. He doesn't own one, but it only takes him a moment to figure out the reference.

“It's beautiful,” he whispers, but Ren notices there's something off in his voice, something he's trying to hide. He crouches down in front of Hux, trying to see- He's crying. Alarmed, Ren takes the tablet from Hux's unresisting hands, tosses it away and pulls him into a hug.

“Tell me,” he begs. Hux stifles a sob.

“I'm so sorry,” he manages. “I'm _happy_ , I'm just… also overwhelmed.” Ren offers him a tissue, and he quickly blows his nose.

“I want,” Hux starts, swallowing. “I want to get it printed and framed and hang it in the living room, if that's okay?”

“Of course…”

“But then there were options and they're all lovely and I couldn't decide _which_ … My god, this is so pathetic,” he berates himself. Ren groans.

“I suck at presents, Hux. Literally every gift you ever get from me will be a drawing - you can't start weeping every time!”  
  
Hux's mouth opens to assure him it's just this one, just because it's... home. Their home. But his brain defaults to snarky comebacks, so what he _says_ is,

“You could always vary it with some dead animals?”

“Great, so my options are making you cry or making you throw up?”

“I didn't throw up.”

“It was close, though.” Hux pulls Ren's stupid face closer, kissing him.

“Thank you,” he says, when they separate. “I love it. I love you.”  
  
* * *  
  
He's still thinking about the picture a few days later, when he's relaxing in the back garden, poring over the newspaper that he only gets for the puzzles.  
  
Ren captured Hux's favourite things about the house without even being told what they were - the half-wild, overgrown garden, the mismatched windows, the lopsided roof with its crooked chimney stack. He'd pretended it was a witch's hut, and grandma was a witch, when he was little.  
  
Something makes him look round, a noise or a movement or just instinct.  
  
There's a wolf, staring at him through the gap in the hedge. Smaller than Ren, coat more brown than black, but with the same intelligence in its eyes.  
  
Hux groans to himself. What is it with this family and showing up unannounced? Standing up, he smiles politely at the visitor.

“He's still asleep,” he says, and he swears the wolf's eyes roll. Last time he checked, Ren was snoring on their bed, Millicent curled up next to him.  
  
Hux steps aside, gesturing at the open back door.

“Please, come in,” he says. “You must be Rey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope y'all had as much fun reading this as I did writing it!
> 
> I love this ship so much... So much that I've been frantically absorbing fanworks instead of watching TRoS cos I know it will make me sad...
> 
> EDIT (Jan 2021): Now with a 'proposal and porn' epilogue!


End file.
